


The House Spouse

by Butterynutjob



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF!Charles, Bisexuality, Bottom!Charles, Bottom!Erik, Charles Getting Uncomfortable, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Hitchhiking, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV switches wildly and without warning, Queer History, Running Away, San Francisco, Sharing a Bed, There are kids but it's not a kid!fic, eventually, jealous!Charles, safe sex, set in 1995
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr is an out-and-proud gay author, columnist, and television personality (a la Dan Savage). Charles Xavier is a straight widower with two children who hosts a radio show dispensing (somewhat conservative) advice about sex and love to teenagers (a la Drew Pinsky). Their mutual attraction is undeniable, and yet, frustratingly, Charles still denies it. Erik figures with the right opportunity, Charles will act on his feelings, and when the opportunity to 'bid' on Charles to be his 'spouse' for the week comes up, Erik wins the auction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I expect to update every couple days. Hope you like it!

_New York City, July 1995_

Erik tried to yawn surreptitiously, but Emma saw him and glared at him. He smiled at her with all his teeth. 

It wasn't that he was bored, he told himself. The amfAR Symposium was directly relevant to his interests and career; it’s just that it had come at the end of a long book tour and he was desperately behind on sleep, not to mention slightly jet-lagged. At least the event was a success; every panel Erik had been to that day had been well-attended and the evening charity auction had sold so many tickets that it was almost at capacity for the venue. Unfortunately, since he had one of the most recognizable (and photogenic, no need to be modest) faces in the LGBT community, yawning was frowned upon. 

Well, his agent Emma frowned upon it.

She frowned at him again as he stifled yet another yawn. Theoretically he wasn't supposed to be doing anything but sitting and listening right now; he didn't see what the big deal was. 

"You're going to get wrinkles," he muttered at her and her face instantly smoothed. Emma's vanity was something he could depend on. 

Finally the speech was over. Erik turned to Emma. "Is it lunchtime yet?" He asked, scanning the crowd for people he knew or anyone attractive, really. 

"You get lunch after your panel," she said firmly. "And double up on the coffee, would you? Sebastian Shaw is leading the discussion and you know how he can be. You need to have all your wits about you."

Erik knew that was true. He just also needed sleep. And frankly, to get laid. It had been over a week. 

"I'll get you some coffee and see you in the next conference room," Emma said, touching Erik's arm lightly. He nodded distractedly. 

As everyone was standing to shuffle off to their next presentation, a man approached Erik. "Erik Lehnsherr?" he said shyly. 

Erik assessed the man quickly. His first impression was colors: red lips, pink cheeks, blue eyes, ginger beard. His brown hair was messy and had a white streak on one side; it looked like he'd once had a conservative haircut but that had grown out quite a bit. He was wearing a mismatched suit and a dark blue tie. 

"I just wanted to chat with you before the panel," the man continued, his eyes bright and not leaving Erik's face. They lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary on Erik's jaw. "Seeing as how we are in similar lines of work." He smiled and the expression was so becoming that Erik found himself more than willing to listen to what the man had to say.

The man paused with a slight air of expectation and Erik belatedly realized that the man was waiting for Erik to recognize him from somewhere. Erik blinked a few times and tried to place him. He was certainly attractive, if unconventionally so, and Erik was certain he would have remembered if he'd ever met him before. Or if he’d even seen him in a picture, for that matter. 

At Erik's lack of response, the man abruptly looked chagrined. "You don't know who I am. Oh god, how embarrassing. Of course you don't; why would you?"

"It's on the tip of my tongue," Erik lied smoothly. 

"Dr. Charles Xavier, relationship counselor. I have a syndicated radio show...?" Charles raised his eyebrows and looked at Erik like that might jog his memory. 

It didn't. "Of course," Erik said smoothly, smiling and extending his hand. "Erik Lehnsherr, gay activist."

Xavier accepted his hand and shook it, looking amused. "Is that really your job title?"

Erik shrugged. "It helps cut through a lot of bullshit."

Xavier looked a little taken aback at Erik's bluntness. "Ah. Haha. Yes, I'm sure it does. Well, I just wanted to meet you briefly and let you know ahead of time that even though we have some professional disagreements, I really admire you...what you do." 

During his speech the man's gaze had dropped to Erik's lips and had lingered long enough that Erik almost said something. Until Xavier's words registered with him. 

"Professional disagreements?" He inquired, suddenly feeling more tense. "Like what?"

"Oh, uh, well, maybe that's putting too fine a point on it," Xavier said, blushing. "I just, um..." He was blinking rapidly and couldn't seem to stop staring at Erik's neck. "Really I just wanted to meet you," he admitted, swallowing. 

Erik smiled. "That's _all_ you wanted?" He spoke the words softer and with an undercurrent of sex.

The poor man was completely flustered now. "Oh. Oh, no. I'm sorry. I'm not--I wasn't--"

Erik cocked his head and frowned slightly. Xavier was giving off an impressive array of mixed signals. 

Normally Erik didn't like to waste time on people who were in the closet or bi-curious or 'still trying to figure themselves out'. He wasn't in the market for a relationship and he liked when potential partners were direct with him...and this man was anything but that. But the way Xavier kept biting his lip and licking his lips...Erik hadn't felt so instantly attracted to someone in a long time, perhaps ever. 

"I should, um..." Xavier gestured vaguely behind himself and then all but ran away when Erik inclined his head.

Erik took a deep breath and laughed slightly to himself. Adorable, sexy, clearly interested and scared as hell. _Not worth the effort,_ he told himself.

**

Emma met him there, silently handing him a huge black coffee. "Shaw's practically gleeful today. Be careful."

Erik accepted the coffee gratefully. "Why do you think he's so happy?" 

"You know how he likes controversy."

Erik groaned into his paper cup. "Is he going to ask me about my views on marriage?"

"I think you can bet on it, sugar."

Erik sighed and took another sip. When Charles Xavier walked onto the dias and had a seat on the panel, Erik nudged Emma. "Hey. What do you know about him? Charles Xavier. Doctor."

Emma looked at Erik reproachfully. "Really, do you not read anything I send you? Dr. Xavier hosts a syndicated radio show that plays late on weeknights, a relationship counseling show directed mostly at teenagers. He ends up giving a lot of sex advice, too."

"Is he straight?" Erik asked, his eyes locked on the man, who was taking off his jacket and putting it on the back of his chair. 

"Pretty famously so, yes. So don't get any ideas." 

Erik snorted. "So what's he doing here?"

"He's supporting the cause," Emma said with a shrug. "If he holds any controversial views whatsoever, though, I expect Shaw will suss those out of him soon."

Erik finished his coffee and passed the cup to Emma, who rolled her eyes and shoved it right back at him. "I'm your agent, not your assistant," she reminded him. Erik grinned at her and made his way up to the dais, crumpling the cup in his hand as he went. He left it on Reverend Shaw’s seat. Xavier saw him approaching and quickly looked away, a spot of color appearing high on each cheek. 

Erik sat down right next to him. "Hello again," he said with his nicest smile.

Xavier cleared his throat. "Hello, Dr. Lehnsherr."

"It's Mr. Lehnsherr, actually. But you can call me Erik."

Xavier gave him a quick, tight smile. Erik studied Xavier for a few moments, watching the blush creep up his neck. He wondered how far down that blush went. 

Reverend Shaw arrived on the dais next. "Erik, my boy!" He exclaimed, reaching out with both hands. "Are you still living within the embrace of Satan?" 

"You'd better believe it," Erik said casually, smiling. He could hear the sharp intake of breath from Xavier next to him. 

"Ah, Dr. Xavier," Shaw said, letting go of Erik's hand and moving onto to extend the same two hands to Xavier, who stood to greet him. "We are so happy to have you here with us today, putting your money where your mouth is."

"Ah. Um. I'm...happy to be here?" Xavier was clearly taken aback by Shaw, which Erik couldn't help but find amusing. 

The reverend smiled broadly. "Glad to hear it! We're expecting an exciting discussion today."

He approached the microphone while a clearly unsettled Dr. Xavier sat himself down again. Shaw started introducing the discussion, _Youth and Sexual Identity in the Nineties_ , while a tall, elegant black woman with white hair walked quickly on stage, obviously embarrassed about being late, stopping only to kiss Xavier quickly on the cheek and murmur a greeting at him. 

Erik watched the woman sit down out of the corner of his eye while he smiled at the crowd and listened carefully to how Shaw had decided to introduce him today. "Erik Lehnsherr is a former soldier and a very vocal homosexual rights activist. His column, _'You Can Say Gay'_ is syndicated and published every week in several major newspapers, and you may have seen him on television on ACT UP Live, as well as on Donahue, Geraldo, and Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher. He has written several books about homosexual issues and is generally considered to be the face of the homosexual rights movement. And with that face, why not? Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Erik Lehnsherr!" 

Erik smiled with only a hint of the annoyance he felt at each tiny barb. Shaw hadn't even mentioned Erik's new book, but more than that, it bothered Erik that Reverend Shaw deliberately used language intended to provoke; the man thrived on controversy. It was well-known that Erik disdained the use of the word 'homosexual' in favor of 'gay', but that wasn't the part of the speech that had most bothered Erik. The fact that he had been a soldier wasn't in his official bio and it made Erik's blood run cold that Shaw had mentioned it. However, he had a reputation to uphold. Erik leaned into the microphone placed nearest to him and spoke with casual amusement. "Thank you for that introduction, Mr. Shaw. Apparently I need to change the name of my column to 'You _Should_ Say Gay."

The audience tittered at the remark. Erik smiled easily and leaned back. 

Dr. Ororo Munroe was introduced next; apparently she was a lesbian anthropologist teaching at NYU. Not much else about her was particularly memorable to Erik, but he did pay rapt attention when Dr. Charles Xavier was introduced. 

"Dr. Charles Xavier is marriage and family therapist by according to his degrees, but he prefers to call himself a relationship counselor. He hosts a radio show called Love in the Nineties in which he dispenses relationship and sex advice to children and teenagers. He is a widower with two children and while he has been a long time vocal supporter of homosexual - excuse me, Mr. Lehnsherr, _gay_ rights - this is the first time he has made an appearance at any such symposium. Everyone - Dr. Charles Xavier!"

The audience applauded politely while Xavier's jaw was dropped and his face reddened from the casual rudeness of Reverend Shaw. Erik winced in sympathy for the man - he clearly had not had the dubious pleasure of working with Shaw previously. 

And Shaw being Shaw, seeing Xavier's reaction, immediately pounced. "Let's start with you, Dr. Xavier. When I was preparing for this panel I listened to several recent episodes of your radio show, and I heard you voice some opinions that I think the audience will find very interesting. Dr. Xavier, what is your opinion of anal sex?"

The room hushed as Charles swallowed. Erik almost felt sorry for him. Charles reached for the glass of water and took a sip before replying. 

"I don't believe that my opinion is really germane to the topic we are here to discuss," he finally managed to say. 

Dr. Shaw looked at Xavier innocently. "Really? Youth and Sexual Identity in the Nineties...Last I checked, youths were pretty concerned with sex...don't you find that to be true, in your work?"

Xavier glared at Shaw and then sighed, clearly capitulating. "I do not think anyone engaging in anal sex is doing anything morally wrong, or bad. I'm just not entirely sure it's a safe practice, in the long run."

Erik's eyebrows raised and he looked at Xavier. The audience murmured. 

"Do you mean because of AIDS?" Dr. Shaw inquired. 

"Well, yes, that too, but---I mean from a broader perspective, physiologically, I'm not sure that humans can have...um, anal sex, repeatedly, without suffering long-term health consequences." 

"You can't really believe that," Erik said incredulously. Xavier looked at him as if he had forgotten Erik was there, his eyes wide.

"I--" he hesitated, licking his lips. "I don't know it for a fact, true, because there haven't been any appropriately conducted studies, but I can't advise people to try it when the jury's still out on whether or not it can do any permanent damage to the anus or rectum. It's just not worth it."

Erik snorted. "Clearly you've never done it."

The audience laughed and Xavier flushed even redder, if that was possible. 

Shaw smiled broadly. "That's very enlightening, Dr. Xavier, thank you." He turned to Erik. "Erik, I also read something in your column recently that I think the audience would be interested in."

Erik tensed, prepared for the worst. 

"Last week you advised in your column against gay people pursuing the legal right to same-sex marriage. Would you explain what you meant by that, please?"

Erik exhaled. It could be worse. “I believe I said that I didn’t think pursuing marriage equality should be the first priority of an LGBT political movement. I think it’s more important that queer people can be assured that they won’t be fired from their jobs or not be able to find housing just because of who they love, so I’d like to see more of a push towards adding ‘sexual orientation’ to the seven federally protected classes.” 

“Even though marriage equality is the top of the gay agenda?” Shaw gave Erik a deceptively kind smile. “It just seems that because _you_ have no interest in getting married, you expect other gay people to feel the same way.”

And Shaw had, of course, unearthed his true and unpopular opinion, but Erik wasn’t one to lie about what he believed. "I just don't think _any_ people should get married," he said with his most charming grin. "Monogamy is a myth. It lasts for a while, perhaps, but it always ends. Why should two people be stuck together past the natural end of a relationship?"

Shaw looked at Erik innocently. "Am I hearing you correctly, Erik? Just to clarify: you don't think gay people should have the right to get married?"

Erik heard the audience muttering. "I think gay people should have all the same rights straight people have, obviously. But why anyone would want to get married is beyond me. I would rather see all marriage abolished." He took a slow sip of his water, feeling Xavier's eyes on him. 

Shaw chuckled patronizingly at Erik's statement. "Marriage as an institution pre-dates the written word, Erik. Do you really think there's a real chance it's going to be abolished?"

"About as much chance as gay marriage has of becoming possible," Erik responded quietly. The crowd hushed for a moment before some mutters resumed. Now they didn't know what to think - he just sounded bitter. Whatever. Erik was here to say what he wanted to; he wasn't a goddamned politician. His held his chin a little higher. 

"But what about families?" The question came from Xavier. "Surely you believe that gay people have the right to have children?"

"The right? Absolutely," Erik said, raising his eyebrows at Xavier. "I said nothing that contradicted that."

"But without marriage..." Xavier frowned. 

"Go on," said Erik drily. "Children are raised by unmarried people all the time."

"Dr. Xavier, do you support the idea of same-sex marriage?" Shaw asked.

"I do," Xavier said firmly. "I, too, would like to see gay people have all the same rights as straight people."

The audience applauded that, if less than completely enthusiastically. Xavier had lost some of them with his opinion about anal sex.

Shaw had some uncomfortable questions for Dr. Munroe next - something about choosing one cause and sticking with it - but Erik wasn't really paying attention. He was hyper-aware of Xavier next to him: his jiggling leg, the tangy scent of nervous sweat. He tried not to look directly at him, but he could clearly see Xavier's hands and since the man was unconsciously fondling his water glass it was distracting as hell. 

_Man,_ Erik thought, _I really needed to get laid._

Finally the panel was finished and it was time to go. They all stood up and posed for photographs. Erik used the opportunity to put his arm around Xavier's shoulders and the other man embraced him back, his arm warm around Erik's waist. When the photographer told them he had enough, Xavier seemed to let go of Erik slowly...or was that Erik's imagination?

_Only one way to find out._ As they were walking off stage, Erik spun and looked at Xavier, who was following him. "Go out with me," he said in a low voice. 

Xavier's eyes got almost comically large as he stopped walking suddenly. "I can't," he said immediately. "I'm ss..." He swallowed and tried again. "I'm sorry, but I'm st--st--straight." By the time he managed to say the word, he was almost whispering. 

Erik eyed him. "Uh-huh," he said. He licked his lips and watched Xavier's eyes snap to his tongue, almost entranced, before he blinked and abruptly looked away. He pressed his lips together and brushed past Erik. 

"It was nice to meet you," he called over his shoulder as he practically ran out of the hotel ballroom. 

Erik looked after him, both amused and frustrated. Emma appeared at his elbow. 

"You have that look on your face," She said in a mostly bored voice. They started walking slowly together to the next event - a book signing. 

"What look?"

"Like you've found a new chew toy."

Erik hummed noncommittally. "We’ll see about that. He says he’s straight."

Emma glanced at Erik's face. "Since when do you _not_ take people at their word about their orientation?" When Erik only scowled, she continued. "If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time barking up that tree."

Erik could not get his mind off the man. He saw every expression again, every blush, every stutter. It made his tongue looser than it should have been. "I bet I can fuck him. I bet he will bottom, even.”

Emma laughed, a clear tinkling sound. "Sugar, I heard what he said about anal sex in there. No way. You're on." She stuck her hand out. "Standard terms apply?"

"Of course," Erik responded. Charles Xavier wanted him; every instinct in Erik screamed it, even if the man himself said he was straight. Regardless of that, Erik would have bet his career that Xavier wanted to fuck him. He just didn't know how he was going to get him to admit it.

**

"Hello, Moira," Charles said warmly. It was late afternoon and Charles was thinking about heading back to his hotel, but he wanted to talk to Moira first.

The brunette looked up at him from the paperwork she'd been looking at and grinned. "Hello, Charles! I was hoping to see you here!'

"You _knew_ I would be here," Charles said, smiling easily at the young woman. They'd known each other a few months and he'd been thinking of asking her out. Gabrielle had passed away almost three years before, and Charles thought it was probably time to start dating again. And Moira was single and pretty and smart and easy to get along with. She was a little younger than Charles would have ideally chosen, but as a widower with two children he didn't feel like he was in a position to be picky. 

"I was hoping you might be free this evening," Charles said, trying not to feel nervous. It had been a while since he had asked someone out. 

"Tonight? Oh, no, tonight is the House Spouse auction! I volunteered to help organize it. And I'm thinking of maybe bidding." She said the second part like it was a scandalous secret. 

"House - Spouse?" Charles repeated, his brow furrowing slightly in puzzlement, although he was still smiling. "What is being auctioned off?"

She giggled. "People. Sort of."

"Sounds highly illegal," Charles said lightly. "Count me in."

Moira looked at him with wide, delighted eyes. "Oh, really? That would be wonderful!"

He had been half-kidding, but he certainly didn't want to disappoint her now. "Well, it appears I have committed myself. Now, what exactly have I committed to?"

Moira laughed, a happy sound. "It's a fundraiser. You auction off yourself to live as a spouse for a week with the auction winner."

Charles eyes raised to his eyebrows. "That sounds, um. Well. At best, prostitution, and at worst, indentured servitude. Are your sure this is legal?"

"Oh, it's all in good fun," Moira said, waving her hand with a smile. "Obviously you aren't expected to sleep with or even stay at the home of your, um, 'spouse.' You just agree to do some chores, keep them company..." she looked at Charles beseechingly. 

"Whatever happened to just auctioning off a date?" Charles asked, shaking his head, but smiling. 

Moira grinned. "They discovered people were a lot more generous when it meant having a virtual spouse for a week."

Charles smiled slightly, considering. Clearly Moira wanted him to do this - did she plan on bidding on him? The kids were with their aunt Raven for the week and since it was summer, he had the month off from the classes he taught as an adjunct professor at NYU. He did have the time available.

"It's for a good cause," Moira said softly. 

Charles laughed. "Okay," he said finally, smiling. "I will sell myself, is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes!" She squealed and hugged him. "Just fill out this form and be back with it in two hours. Oh, do you have a tuxedo? The people who dress up always seem to get the highest bids."

Charles smirked. She wanted to see him in a tuxedo. "Of course," he said. 

**

Two hours later, Charles was impeccably dressed in his tuxedo. He'd showered, too, and trimmed his beard. He knew he needed a haircut but there was not much he could do about that in two hours. He'd filled out the form, as requested; there was an longer explanation of what he was agreeing to as well as a place for him to write about 'what he would bring to a spousal relationship.' It was all very cute and as Charles got ready he basked in the warm glow that Moira was going to bid on him. He thought someday it would make a great story for their friends about how they first started dating. 

Charles decided to pick-up a corsage at a convenience store just before he got to the auction venue; he thought if Moira was going to audition him as a spouse he might as well show how romantic he could be early on.

He whistled as he walked in the doors. He found Moira and preened when she gushed over how good he looked. He handed her his completed form and went to stand backstage where she directed him. 

It turned out he was one of the last people to be auctioned. 

When it was finally his turn to go onstage, he tried not to feel like a piece of meat. The lights were very bright and he could really only see the first couple rows’ worth of people. He grinned and waved at the audience and heard appreciative whooping noises in response. He did notice that Moira had recused herself from being the M.C. and had slid the microphone to a colleague for his auction. 

"Our next available spouse is the handsome Dr. Charles F. Xavier, Ph.D! He can speak four languages and two of those are not even dead. He enjoys philosophical debates, reading aloud, yard work and doing the dishes. Yes that's right, spouses, he likes doing the dishes!" Charles was standing in goofy 'muscle man' poses while the announcer spoke. He almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this all was and did in fact laugh a couple times. At last he was having fun.

"Before we start the bidding, do you have any questions for Charles, potential spouses?"

"Will you do yard work with your shirt off?" A woman yelled from the audience. 

"Happy to," Charles called back, laughing. 

"Do you play chess?" A male voice called loudly. 

"I do," Charles called back, realizing with a small jolt at that moment that it was entirely possible that whoever won the auction would be a man. 

Well. It's not like it was real, or anything. 

"Can you cook?" Another man called out. 

Charles made a grimace and bobbled his head from side to side, holding his hands out in supplication. "I make a mean grilled cheese?"

There was laughter from the audience. Charles wanted to hold a hand above his eyes and look for Moira, but it didn't really feel appropriate. 

"Is everyone satisfied? Excellent. For this wonderful spouse, let's start the bidding at...five thousand dollars. Do I hear five thousand?"

Charles turned to look at the acting auctioneer in disbelief. That was a lot of money. Not quite a thousand a day? His cheeks started to flush as he thought about how embarrassing it would be for him when they had to lower the starting price...

Except, they got a bid right away. Charles looked at the audience in shock. "Really?" he said, his voice higher-pitched than usual, his surprise evident. There was a titter of laughter from the audience. 

"Five thousand, to the lady. Do I hear fifty-five hundred? Fifty-five. Do I hear six thousand? Six thousand to the man in black. Do I hear sixty-five?..."

Charles felt dazed as the numbers went higher. He hoped for Moira's sake that she was not going to spend all her money on getting him to spend time with her.

"Twelve thousand," said a strong baritone voice from the back of the room. The crowd hushed. 

A strange, fluttery feeling filled Charles' stomach as he tried to place the voice. It was familiar. He'd heard it very recently, in fact...

"Sold!" The auctioneer said, clearly thrilled. "And the winner is our good friend Erik Lehnsherr! Thank you for your support, Mr. Lehnsherr!"

The crowd went insane with cheering. The spotlight swung around to show Lehnsherr, who waved and grinned at everyone with his ridiculously handsome face. He looked up at the stage where Charles was standing and Charles felt the breath leave his lungs. The rest of the world that was not Erik Lehnsherr was dim to the point of blackness. Charles was pinned to the spot, a butterfly on a board. 

Moira had not won the auction. The winner was a man, a very disturbingly attractive man, a man who had asked Charles out earlier that day. Charles tried to smile, sure that people were watching him, but he was positive it came out as a twisted grimace. 

For a week, Charles was going to be the virtual spouse of the most famous gay man in the country.


	2. The Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it goes without saying, but the opinions expressed by the characters are not necessarily the opinions of the author. Also, small warning at the end of chapter (because I know someone will complain if I don't put it somewhere!)

Erik’s brain was reeling. He hadn’t planned on this; hadn’t known until the second Charles Xavier walked onstage that he was even in the auction. Bidding on him was almost an instinctive response. 

So what now? Bringing Charles to his actual home was out of the question. Erik didn't bring any lovers or potential lovers there, and for good reason. Erik only had a few minutes to decide what to do. He got an idea just as the announcer was finishing saying her good-night after the auction and grasped Emma by the sleeve. It wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, but it was the only one he had, and he needed to act quickly. "Do you have an apartment guy?" He asked intensely. Emma had a guy for everything; she was good at keeping her clients very happy. 

"Yes, of course," she said, looking at his face intently and with a slight frown, like she was trying to read his thoughts. People were leaving and he and Emma were getting jostled on both sides.

"I need an apartment in San Francisco. A studio apartment, furnished."

Emma blinked at him a few times before she crossed her arms and looked at him like he was an errant schoolboy. "Erik, this is _not_ a good idea."

"Something with a view. Something really nice," he added, distracted, looking around for Charles Xavier. He glanced at Emma when he realized she had not responded. "Emma, please."

Emma sighed, clearly unhappy. "What's your budget? How long do you want it and when do you need it by?"

"I need it by tomorrow, for a week, and I don't care how much it costs," Erik had spotted Charles Xavier over Emma's head; he appeared to be looking around for someone himself. Probably Erik, to give him a piece of his mind, Erik supposed. "It just has to be really nice but really small. Utilities on. And some of my clothes need to be moved there."

"I'll find you something, but I'm going to bill you a twenty percent commission for myself," Emma said, suddenly seeming less unhappy about the whole idea. 

"That's fine," Erik said distractedly. Xavier had spotted Erik and was determinedly making his way towards him. 

"Well." Emma smiled. "Consider it done, then. I'll let you know the address as soon as I have it."

Erik smiled as Charles Xavier approached him, but it didn't seem to make a dent in the man's obvious discomfort. 

"Erik Lehnsherr," he started and then stopped. He licked his lips. "While I applaud your generosity, and your support of the cause, I don't want you to think that--" he swallowed. "I mean, I'm not going to--" He coughed and looked miserable for a moment. 

"Charles Xavier," Erik said softly. "May I call you Charles?" 

Charles nodded, his eyes darting around him uncomfortably. 

"I didn't do this to make you uncomfortable," Erik said, as sincerely as he could. "Honestly, it's a bit of a PR stunt for me."

Charles's eyes snapped to Erik's face and he frowned slightly. "I'm sorry?"

"You may have noticed that I have been getting some backlash to my views about marriage," Erik said in a low, soothing voice. "I thought showing some public support of the institution might put me back in the LGBT community's good graces on that front."

Charles didn't look completely convinced. In fact, he looked pretty unhappy about the situation. "Well. That strikes me as somewhat manipulative, but I don't live my life in the public eye the way you do. I suppose that makes sense."

Erik felt a burst of annoyance at that statement, but did not let it show on his face. 

Charles fixed Erik with a hard stare. "So this doesn't have anything to do with you asking me out earlier today?" 

Erik had to play this carefully. He gave Charles a small, cool smile. "That was a misunderstanding, I'm afraid. No, I bid on you because the media will pay more attention to my temporary marriage if it is with my nemesis than with a random stranger."

Charles looked at him incredulously. "Nemesis? Are you kidding? You didn't know who I was this morning."

"That's not true," Erik protested mildly. "I had just misplaced your name."

Charles looked at him for a moment and then unexpectedly laughed. "Well. This is the most ridiculous scheme I will have ever been party to. I suppose I will be able to laugh about it in the future."

Erik smiled back. "I hope so," he said. "There is, however, one small complication. I actually reside in San Francisco. It wouldn't make much sense for me to have a spouse who wouldn't be there with me."

Charles froze, his eyes large. "San Francisco?" he asked weakly. "I'm...I thought...I could stay in my own home?"

"It's up to you," Erik said, desperately knowing what he wanted the man to say but also knowing that pushing the matter would be counterproductive. "I'll pay all your expenses, of course. Have you ever been to San Francisco?"

"Ha," Charles said with a wry smile. "You are trying to buy my cooperation. Does that usually work for you?"

Erik’s customary flirtatious response slipped out of his mouth before he had put a lot of thought into it. "I'll let you know in the morning."

Charles's face lost all expression as he stood stock-still. Erik was about to say something to try and smooth over his faux pas when Charles took a step closer to him. 

"I want to make one thing perfectly clear, Mr. Lehnsherr," he said, his eyes roving Erik's face in a way that was almost uncomfortably intimate. "I will _not_ be having sex with you. Do you understand?"

And his eyes belied his lips when they settled directly on Erik's mouth. 

Erik felt like his nerves were screaming. After a slight pause he inclined his head the tiniest bit, in a movement that he thought Charles would take as assent. 

"If you can live with that," Charles continued, still standing too inappropriately close for someone who was saying what he was saying, all self-doubt eliminated from his stature, "Then I would be happy to take you up on your offer of a seven-day, all expense paid trip to San Francisco." He smiled slightly, like there was a secret joke in all this that he found very amusing. "I will have to make arrangements to find a studio to record my show, but I think I can work that out with my producer."

Erik didn't respond verbally; he couldn't. The other man's proximity was intoxicating; Erik felt himself flushing and his cock even twitched. What had happened to the blushing, stammering Charles of earlier that day? _This_ Charles was confident and confrontational and all the more attractive for it. 

Erik realized in a rush of shame that he would have said anything to get this man into his home. "I understand," he finally said, his voice sounding tight and restricted even to him. He needed to get away from Charles for a few moments, at least; he felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, standing this close to the man. "I'll send a car for you tomorrow, then."

Charles finally took a step back. "That sounds fine. What time?"

Erik thought rapidly. It would certainly take some time to get his 'new apartment' together, and it would better to arrive late, but not too late..."Three o'clock?"

"Three o'clock it is," Charles said. "I'll see you tomorrow then, _spouse_.”

"Husband," Erik whispered, not really thinking about it. Charles looked at Erik with an expression Erik couldn't begin to decipher. 

Charles started to walk away and then turned. “Oh.” As an afterthought he handed Erik the box with the corsage in it. “I suppose this is for you.” Without waiting for a response, Charles walked away almost jauntily, and Erik couldn't have kept his eyes off the man's round ass if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to. 

Erik exhaled slowly right as Emma came back. "Are you working your magic?" She asked lightly, one eyebrow arched. 

Erik didn't answer. He was beginning to think that he might have made a serious error in judgement. But the money was going to a good cause. So it was worth it, even if Erik didn't get laid. 

**

Charles was in a strange mood - part elated, part frustrated, and part grim. He could get through this. He just needed to be in control of himself. _Erik Lehnsherr is more attracted to you than you are to him,_ he told himself. Not only did this make him feel warm and quivery inside, it also made him in control of the situation. He was not going to blush like a schoolgirl if Erik flirted with him. He was going to be strong. Be firm. 

Speaking of firm...Charles had an erection for a reason he didn't want to acknowledge or think about much. Once he was back at his home for the evening, he played the VHS tape of some of his favorite porn scenes, the one he hid carefully from his kids. He and Gabrielle used to watch this together...

Despite how he tried to focus on the images on his television and on jerking off, Charles' mind kept wandering. Gabrielle would probably just cheer Erik on, he thought ruefully, and felt a pang of grief for his late wife stronger than he had felt in a while. Sex with Gabby had been amazing - she'd had no inhibitions, it seemed, and had approached everything sexual with a relentless joy, including her husband's most secret fantasies. She was one of two people on the entire planet he to whom he had ever confessed that he sometimes felt attracted to men, and she thought it was, in her words, "hot." During sex she had used to whisper to him to imagine what it would be like to have another man join them, how she thought Charles would love feeling a cock sliding in and out of his mouth...

Charles came at that thought, feeling such a swelling love for his late wife that it almost drowned out the sadness that he inevitably felt when he thought about Gabrielle.

_She would want me to be with Erik._

The thought floated into his mind, unbidden, and Charles lay back on his bed and sighed as he wiped himself off with a T-shirt. Despite having what he _thought_ was Gabrielle's ghostly approval, he couldn't let it happen. His career, his children...dammit, he couldn't let Kurt and Cain be _right_. Now, if it was someone discreet...Charles turned on his side, punching his pillow a little more viciously than necessary to get it fluffier. But Erik Lehnsherr was the opposite of discreet. He despised people who lived closeted lives. Charles was embarrassingly well-read on the man; once he had discovered Erik's column - and picture - he had not missed a week of reading it after that. The man's acerbic wit and no-nonsense approach--

"Stop thinking about Erik Lehnsherr," Charles told himself out loud. He sighed and determinedly closed his eyes. 

**

"You can't be serious," Charles said, looking at the _private fucking plane_ that the car had dropped them off at.

Erik waved away Charles' reaction while he secretly felt a little smug that he had impressed the other man. "It's not that big a deal, honestly. My agency owns it."

Charles scoffed and laughed a little. "Well I shall be terribly disappointed if there is no bar on board."

"Well, then you won’t be disappointed," Erik said smoothly. Charles caught his eye for a moment, giving the taller man an intense, smoky look before he laughed and shook his head, walked up the stairwell to the plane. 

Angel, the flight attendant, was handing Charles a scotch before Erik had even sat down. 

"I'll have one too," Erik said to Angel. Neither man spoke much again until after the plane had taken off.

"Tell me about yourself, Erik Lehnsherr," Charles said abruptly, settling back into his seat. He was almost aggressively confident now. 

"You don't have to call me by my full name every time you address me," Erik said, amused. 

"That's how I think of you," Charles said. His first scotch had disappeared very quickly and he appeared to be deliberately drinking his second more slowly. "Celebrity. Bigger than life. Untouchable."

Erik’s mouth had a mind of its own. "I assure you, I'm very touchable."

"Mmm." Charles gazed at him through half-lidded eyes before his eyes shifted to his glass of scotch. "Reverend Shaw mentioned you were a soldier. I didn't know that."

Erik physically jolted at the words. "I'm curious as to why you seem to think you should have known," he said carefully. 

Charles' eyes widened almost imperceptibly at that comment and he coughed slightly. "This is good scotch," he said. 

"Why don't you tell me about yourself," Erik suggested. "After all, _my_ life is essentially an open book." He watched Charles carefully for a reaction to those words and the slight flush that came to Charles' cheeks made Erik feel like his suspicion might be right: Charles knew quite a bit about him, and had probably read a lot of what Erik wrote. 

It was a good feeling. 

Charles cleared his throat. "Well; let's see. What don't you know about me? I have two children, a boy and a girl; David is fourteen and Jean is nine."

Erik nodded, trying not to look as discouraged as that information made him feel. "Where are they now?"

"They already happened to be staying with their aunt Raven this week." Charles paused. "Their mother - my wife - passed away about two and a half years ago, from cancer."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Erik said sincerely.

"Thank you." Charles looked at Erik with eyes that were a little bit glassy. "Gabby would have liked you. Well, she did. You came up in conversation a few times." Charles abruptly stopped talking and flushed bright red. 

"That's...flattering," Erik said slowly. He wondered why Charles suddenly looked so embarrassed. He also kept licking his lips, although they were already chapped to the point of redness. Erik wanted to lick them too.

"In addition to _Love in the Nineties_ , I also teach a few psychology courses at NYU," Charles said brightly. 

"Are you a strict teacher?" Erik asked lazily, not caring that his flirting was obvious. 

Charles looked at Erik for a moment before he sniffed and _stretched,_ the tease. "Very strict. And yet I am unaccountably popular." He shot Erik a quick, sly smirking glance.

Charles was flirting back?

"I trust you will not take advantage of me if I happen to fall asleep," Charles said blithely. "The disadvantage of drinking on planes is that it makes me very tired."

"Not to worry," Erik murmured. "I prefer cognizant and consenting partners."

Charles smiled at that, a little, even as his eyes were drifting shut. 

Erik decided jerking off in the bathroom would be inappropriate. 

**

"Charles."

The mellifluous baritone voice entered Charles' awareness gradually. He'd been having a lovely dream, something sexy, he couldn't remember exactly now...

"Charles." The voice definitely sounded amused now. Charles cracked an eye open and saw Erik Lehnsherr standing over him, wearing his tight black T-shirt and tight black jeans and he just looked good enough to eat but he was also very amused by something in Charles' lap. 

Charles glanced down and immediately shifted. How mortifying; he had a very obvious erection. "Are we--" Charles mouth was very dry and he licked his lips and tried again. "Are we there? San Francisco?"

"As close as we can get by plane," Erik said. "I need you to get up; we are transferring to a car." He put a slight extra emphasis on the word ‘up’, smirking.

Charles rubbed a hand across his face and stood up, only swaying a little. He still had a bit of an erection, but he adjusted it unselfconsciously. The other man had already gotten an eyeful, anyway.

He yawned. "Any chance of dinner?"

Erik didn't respond and Charles glanced at him to see him looking stricken. Charles chuckled a little to himself. "I'm not picky," he said. "I'm just hungry." It was well after dark, which for summer meant that it was probably after nine o'clock. 

"Is Chinese food delivery okay for tonight?" Erik said sounding uncharacteristically anxious. "Since I've been away, I have nothing at the--at, um, home to cook."

"Chinese sounds lovely," Charles said. He shot an amused look to Erik. "Don't waste your energy on trying to impress me."

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Erik assured him. He fervently hoped Emma had set-up telephone service as well. 

Erik gave the driver the address, trying to hide from Charles the fact that he was reading it off a piece of paper that Emma had given him before he’d picked up Charles from his New York apartment. Charles didn’t seem to notice.

The building they pulled up at was a very posh, very tall building. The lobby was relatively small but extremely elegantly decorated in marble. Feeling grateful that there was no doorman that Erik would have to pretend to know, he pushed the button on the elevator as if he did it every day. The 49th floor. Good thing Erik wasn’t afraid of heights. 

Erik opened the door and gestured for Charles to go in first - that gave him a second to locate the light switch. Charles went immediately to the windows. The living room was in the corner, and there were windows on two sides. 

“Oh, look, there’s that...triangular-shaped building,” Charles said vaguely, gesturing out the window.

Erik smiled. “Yes. The Transamerica Pyramid is I think what you meant.”

Charles gave him a rueful smile. “Give me a break; I’m not from around here.” He grinned at Erik for a moment before looking out the other window. “What’s over there? When it’s not foggy, I mean.”

Erik tried to do some fast geographical math in his head regarding what should be visible out _that_ window if the pyramid was visible out _that_ window and drew a blank, so he made an educated guess. “Mostly buildings. On a clear day you can see the bay.” He prayed in the event that he was wrong that the weather stayed foggy all week, which was pretty likely, actually, for summer in San Francisco. 

“Um…” Charles was looking at Erik with a strange expression on his face. “Where is the rest of your apartment?”

“Hmm?” Erik was deliberately casual. “This is all of it. It’s a studio.”

Charles’ face went through several emotions.

The one-room apartment had a huge king-size bed behind a privacy screen, on the other side of which was a stuffed chair, a matching loveseat, and a television with a combination VHS and DVD player. There was a galley-style kitchen along one wall, and on the other wall was a door to a bathroom and a door to a closet, both open.

This was not only exactly what Erik had asked Emma for, it was nearly exactly what he had pictured. So why did he feel so queasy about it now?

“Rents are very high in the city,” Erik added awkwardly.

“There’s one bed,” Charles quietly observed, looking at it. The loveseat was far too short for either man to sleep on it.

“You haven’t platonically shared a bed with someone before?” Erik asked weakly. He dared to glance at Charles and saw that the man was furious. He looked like he wanted to punch Erik. 

“You did this on purpose,” Charles said through gritted teeth. “You are trying to get me into a situation that I am not comfortable with. I told you _no_ , Erik. Do you always disregard the wishes of people you want to seduce so blatantly?”

Erik’s face heated and he started to snap out something ill-advised about Charles obviously wanting it, but he swallowed the words before they came out. He stared at the floor and felt like the biggest asshole on the planet when he realized that everything Charles had just said was completely accurate. 

Erik rubbed a hand across his forehead. He abruptly felt really tired. Why had he gone to all this trouble? To get laid? He was Erik Lehnsherr. He had so many options for getting laid it wasn’t even funny. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a complete asshole about all of this.”

Charles didn’t say anything, but he seemed slightly surprised by the admission. 

Erik continued, looking away from Charles. “I’ll get you a hotel room tonight and if you want to go home tomorrow, I’ll arrange it.” Erik wanted to be off his feet already but it didn’t feel right to sit on the bed and the chair and loveseat were behind Charles, so he just stood there awkwardly looking at the floor. When Charles didn’t speak for a minute, Erik raised his eyes to look at him. 

Charles was still flushed and breathing heavier than usual, but he was eyeing Erik with a little more sympathy and a little less wariness. “There was mention of dinner earlier.”

Erik almost laughed at the unexpectedness of the comment. “Of course. Shall I order that first?”

Charles nodded. “I think both of us may feel more rational after a little sustenance.”

He had a point, Erik thought. He found the phone (on the wall in the kitchen) and gave a silent thank-you to Emma when he heard a dial tone. Fortunately Charles used the restroom while Erik ordered so it wasn’t so obvious that Erik had to ask information to find a nearby Chinese restaurant that delivered. 

Erik swallowed back the guilt he felt that he was still deceiving Charles about this being his home because it was outweighed by the shame he would feel if Charles discovered the extent of his subterfuge. 

Erik found there was a small folding table and two wooden folding chairs slid in next to the refrigerator, so he set those up so it was ready when the food arrived.

The meal passed in relative silence, other than Charles' murmured thank you. When they were done it was nearly eleven o'clock. Charles rubbed his hands across his face. 

“I'm too tired to deal with getting a hotel room. I honestly just want to go to bed right now,” Charles said frankly to Erik. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark bags under his eyes.

Erik nodded. “Okay. In that case, I will sleep on the loveseat.”

Charles eyed the loveseat doubtfully. “It’s half your body length.”

Erik shrugged. “I was a soldier, remember? I’ve experienced worse.”

Charles’ face softened, just for a moment, before he gave Erik a jerky nod. 

They took turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed, giving each other as much space as possible. 

Once the were both settled, Erik folded very awkwardly and uncomfortably on the loveseat with his legs hanging over the arm and Charles in the bed behind the privacy screen, right after Charles turned the light off, Erik spoke. 

“I really am sorry,” he said to the dark room. He heard Charles take in a breath but he didn’t respond. “I don’t--” Erik sighed as he realized he had no way to complete that sentence. “I’ll see to it you get home as soon as possible.”

“Well,” he heard softly after a moment, “I’m not sure I’m willing to give up my vacation that quickly.”

Erik felt a little less shitty after hearing that--at least Charles wasn’t so disgusted that he wanted to leave immediately--but how was he going to sleep on the loveseat for a week? It was so uncomfortable that Erik doubted he would even be able to sleep on it for one night. 

The obvious solution popped into his mind - admitting to Charles that he lived in a house not far from here - but Erik resolutely ignored it, too ashamed to own up to his deceit.

It had been perhaps forty-five minutes and Erik had just managed to fall a little bit asleep when he heard Charles say, exasperated, “Oh, just come sleep here.”

“What?” Erik murmured sleepily. Did he dream that?

“I can’t sleep knowing what you--” Charles broke off. “This bed is huge. It’s fine.”

Erik, half-asleep and uncomfortable as hell, couldn’t think of a reason to argue. He rolled off the loveseat awkwardly and went around the privacy screen, lifted the edge of the covers and climbed into the bed on the far side from Charles. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that past his lips as his body revelled in being able to stretch out. 

“Thank you,” he murmured and was asleep the moment after the words left his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik lies.


	3. Jeffrey

Charles woke early, when the first gleam of light entered the room. Neither of them had closed the blinds on the huge windows, so he thought it would probably get bright rather quickly...then he remembered the fog. Maybe not so quickly, then. 

He surreptitiously looked at Erik on the other side of the bed. He was on his back, still apparently fast asleep, so his face was in perfect profile to Charles. He looked like a statue of a Greek God. It stirred something inside Charles which he thought must be jealousy, because he couldn't be lying here gazing at another man and thinking about how beautiful he was...

"Enjoying the view?" Erik murmured, his eyes still closed. 

Charles started and inhaled quickly. A tiny smile tugged up the corner of Erik's mouth but his eyes stayed closed. 

"Are you so sure I was looking at you?" Charles blustered. It seemed a little egotistical on the part of the other man, even if he was correct. 

"I know the feeling of eyes on me," Erik answered, his eyes still closed, still facing the ceiling. His voice was soft and dreamy, not quite a whisper. "Not just because I was a soldier. I actually think everyone has that sense, but nobody really acknowledges it. Have you ever been in traffic, and felt someone looking at you? And then when you turn, you see you were right?"

That had happened to Charles several times in his life, in fact. "Huh. Yes, actually."

"It's just a personal theory," Erik murmured. He still hadn't moved. "Are you decent?"

"I think I'm--" Charles started to answer the question and realized he was answering a different context. "Do you mean am I clothed? Yes, I am."

Erik smiled at that point and turned his head to face Charles and opened his eyes. They looked gray in the diffuse light in the room. "I'm sure you are a decent person as well," he said softly before sighing. "Unlike me." He sat up and faced away from Charles. He was still fully dressed, wearing his clothes from the night before. 

"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that," Charles said lightly, stretching on his back, with his arms above his head. His eyes were closed and one golden ray of sunlight that had gotten through the crack in the privacy screen had pierced his beard and made it look like it was fire. "You were a perfect gentleman."

Erik cleared his throat. "Breakfast? I don't have anything here, but there are some great options nearby." One of Erik's favorite restaurants to have brunch at was actually not far away.

"Alright," Charles said. "Dibs for first go at the bathroom." 

Erik laughed and waved at Charles to go ahead. 

**

Brunch went surprisingly smoothly. Charles seemed to be in much better spirits and had not brought up leaving or getting a hotel room again. They talked very generally about food, travel, the weather, and literature. Charles spoke a good bit about his children as well. The professor was actually quite chatty and Erik found himself liking the man very much, more than he felt he ought to. 

As their meal drew to a close Erik felt himself getting more anxious about the housing and sleeping situation, sure that Charles would bring it up at any moment. Charles had been understandably upset about it the night before, but he didn't seem at all concerned about it now. 

"So," Charles said, leaning back with a smile after he had finished his breakfast, a cup of tea in his hand. "What should I expect in the way of 'spousal duties' today?"

There was a hint of suggestiveness in his voice, although he simply blinked and raised his eyebrows in expectation of a response when Erik's eyes snapped to his. 

"Well," Erik said carefully. "There is a movie premiere tonight which I have been invited to attend. I suppose my spouse would be expected to accompany me." 

"A movie premiere? How exciting! Are we in Hollywood or San Francisco?" Charles' eyes were sparkling, clearly pleased with the idea. "Will there be celebrities there?" 

"Um. Well. Sort of." Erik himself was likely to be one of the biggest celebrities at this particular movie screening, but he felt uncomfortable saying that to Charles for a number of reasons. Erik glanced at Charles. "You don't seem the tabloid type."

"Oh no, not at all. But Jean will want a full recounting, and David will too, although he always pretends he doesn't care about that stuff." Charles smiled fondly, thinking about his children. "It's only been a couple days, and I miss them already."

"Where are they? You mentioned with your sister, but where is that?" Erik asked idly. 

"Um." Charles actually seemed to blush. "Raven lives in Sacramento."

"But that's only..." Erik narrowed his eyes at Charles. Sacramento was only a couple hours from San Francisco by car. "You sneaky devil."

"What?" Charles protested, trying to look innocent, although red was starting to creep up his cheeks. 

"You agreed to this to be closer to your children," Erik said, feeling both somewhat disappointed and yet oddly charmed by the realization. "You've been to San Francisco before."

"I have _not_ been to San Francisco before," Charles said firmly. "I was not lying. But the first part...okay, yes, Raven's only had David and Jean for three days, and I miss them already." He shook his head ruefully. "I guess I was hoping to squeeze in a visit with them while I am out here. David's been keen on visiting Frisco for a while."

Erik winced. "Please don't say Frisco."

Charles frowned, perplexed. "I thought everyone called it that?"

"Nobody calls it that," Erik said in a tone that brooked no argument. "We have some time to kill before this evening. Do you want to go to Golden Gate park?"

Charles perked up considerably, not that his good humor had really faded that much. "Oh, yes, please!"

They took the local MUNI bus to Golden Gate park, after a brief stop at a convenience store where Erik bought a frisbee. They tossed the frisbee back and forth for a while before Charles sat down on the grass and Erik went to sit next to him. 

"The gallant fog is fighting a losing battle against the sun and the wind," Charles observed. There were low patches of fog in the park and the wind had picked up and seemed to be pushing and tugging at some of the more stubborn fog patches. The sun was disappearing and reappearing frequently due to the quickly-changing fog and cloud patterns. 

"Very poetic," Erik said wryly, smiling, next to Charles. "The gallant fog always wins, though. At least in summer. In the evening it will have the sun and wind retreating."

Charles gave Erik an unexpectedly warm smile. "You..." his voice trailed off, although he was still smiling. "You play along."

Erik studied Charles as the other man looked down at a blade of grass. The wind was lifting a part of his hair ridiculously, exposing an impressive gray streak. Erik didn't know what to say in response and he felt that Charles had more to say, so he just watched the man. 

"Gabby did that, too," Charles said quietly. "I am really a huge nerd, and can get very imaginative about things, and she never made me feel that I was crazy or ridiculous or stupid." He swallowed and shivered as a particularly cold wind swept by. "What you just said...well, it reminded me of her."

Erik was silent a moment. "You loved her very much," he observed. "How long were you together?" 

"We started dating in grad school," Charles said. "Got married the summer after I graduated." He smiled at Erik. "She was older than me and had already found a teaching position before I was even done with school. She was also pregnant, so..." he shrugged. "That wasn't why we got married. I knew she was ‘the one’ after we'd been dating only a few months. But it did make it easier to sell to our families." Charles gazed into the distance, his eyes unfocused for a moment, before he shook his head. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Erik said softly. Internally, his emotions were all over the place. He knew himself well enough to know that he was falling hard for Charles. He'd been attracted to the man based on his physical appearance alone, but his optimistic nature and emotional honesty were making Erik feel a warmth and protectiveness towards Charles that confused and surprised him. Because he didn't fall for people. 

"Is that man taking pictures of us?" 

Erik turned his head to look in the direction Charles was frowning and sighed. "Ah. Yes, unfortunately that's what it looks like."

"Why is he doing that?"

Erik sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "He's a paparazzo. Don't worry about it." He stood up and offered a hand to Charles. "We should get going back to the ap--my place, anyway. To get ready for tonight and figure out food."

"Paparazzi?" Charles, said, confused, as he accepted Erik's hand and stood up. "You--does this happen a lot?"

"Well, I don't know if I would say _a lot_ , but it happens," Erik said uncomfortably. "When there's not somebody more famous around."

"So that man is going to publish those pictures," Charles said slowly. "Of you and me."

Erik glanced at Charles as they walked to the bus stop. Charles had put a little more distance between their bodies than he had been doing earlier, Erik noticed. "Probably, yes."

"So people are going to think...that we're together. We're going to be linked, now."

Erik felt himself getting annoyed, but he tried to reign it in. Maybe Charles didn't mean it the way it was coming out of his mouth. "Is that a problem, Charles?"

Charles sighed heavily. "Well, yes, it defeats the--" he cut himself off abruptly. "I don't want for my public image to be marginalized by a scandal."

"How is being seen with me scandalous?" Erik asked in a deceptively calm voice.

"Because people will think I'm gay," Charles blurted, addly awkwardly, "No offense."

"How could I possibly take offense to that?" Erik said sarcastically. "Because being seen as gay would limit your career opportunities? Because people would think less of you, or outright boycott what you create? Because you would get weekly letters from well-intentioned people who tell you they are praying for you to _decide_ to _choose_ the right path before you end up in hell?"

Charles blinked. "I didn't mean--"

Erik rounded on Charles as they reached the bus stop. "It takes courage to live as an openly gay man in this society, Charles." He paused. "Clearly it's not for everyone."

Charles looked like he'd been slapped. "I'm not gay," he whispered.

Erik made a noise of disgust and shook his head. "If that was your takeaway from what I said--"

"No, I--please." Charles put his hand flat against Erik's chest, high near his shoulder. It was a surprisingly intimate contact and Erik nearly stepped back but decided not to seeing the look on Charles' face - he looked like he was about to cry. "Can you please forget I just said that? I'm--" he exhaled hard, then swallowed and looked away. "I don't believe there's anything wrong with being gay, Erik. I know you experience discrimination and I think that's wrong. I am--" he closed his eyes and looked down. "I'm ashamed that my knee-jerk reaction was not wanting to be seen with you."

His hand was still on Erik's chest, though, and if that pap was still nearby he was doubtless getting pictures - something Charles had to be aware of; he wasn't stupid. "You should be."

Charles nodded, still looking down. His lips were pressed tightly together. "Will you accept my apology?"

Erik looked at Charles, considering. Clearly Charles was genuinely sorry, but it still stung that right after he'd acknowledged to himself he was falling for Charles, Charles was ashamed to be seen with him. "I have mixed feelings about that." 

Charles finally moved his hand off Erik and gave him a small smile. "Have I mentioned how much I admire your honesty?"

Erik shook his head, but he couldn't stop the corner of his mouth turning up a bit. "Flattery will get you nowhere." 

"I'm sure that's not completely true," Charles said lightly, giving Erik a coy smile before he stepped back and more into the wind-sheltering shell of the bus stop.

Erik stared at Charles with a little bit of disbelief. The man was back to flirting again? Was it a bad habit of his? It was making Erik both annoyed and encouraged, and the resulting mix felt a little like insanity. He deliberately looked away from Charles and did not respond. "There will be media and paparazzi tonight at the movie premiere, you know. And I told you right after the auction that I bid on you for the publicity, so you can’t say this is a surprise.”

He wasn't looking at Charles to see his response, but he heard absolutely nothing. "That makes sense," Charles said evenly after a moment. 

Erik risked a glance at Charles. It felt risky because if Charles looked disgusted, it would hurt, but he didn't. He looked calm. 

"You still want to go?" Erik asked, with one eyebrow raised. It was a challenge, no matter how casually it was voiced. 

"Yes, of course," Charles said calmly, meeting his eyes. 

The ache in Erik's chest eased a little, but just a little.

**

Charles was far more nervous about going to the movie premiere than he dared let Erik know. He actually hadn’t believed Erik when Erik had first told him that he had bid on Charles for the PR value; he thought it was an excuse to cover the fact that Erik wanted to get into his pants. And even though Charles did not intend for that to happen, the more time he spent with Erik, the more he liked and respected him, and when he had seen the flash of hurt cross Erik's face before his mask had slammed down...Charles was ashamed of what he'd said and felt about the paparazzo, but the fact that it hurt Erik was the worst part. 

Unfortunately, it didn't change the fact that deep inside himself a part of Charles was concerned about what being seen in public with Erik Lehnsherr would do to his career, or worse, if certain family members of his saw it on television. 

That thought was enough to give Charles cold sweats, but he couldn't back out now. Not if he wanted to salvage a friendship with Erik. And he wanted that very much, he thought on the bus ride back to Erik's apartment, as he looked over at Erik sitting across the aisle. He looked more like a movie star than an author, Charles thought, idly wondering if Erik had ever worked as a model. He certainly had the face for it, and the body too, it seemed.

Erik's eyes flicked to Charles and Charles moved his gaze away instantly, hoping he wasn't blushing. But less than a minute later he found his eyes on Erik again. It's like he couldn't stop looking at the man. Erik stretched, looking away from Charles, out the window, and Charles let his eyes follow the way the muscles in his arms moved under the skin. When he put his arms back down, one of his hands landed absent-mindedly on the metal pole between the seat in front of him and the ceiling of the bus. Charles watched with reddening cheeks as Erik's long fingers wrapped around the pole and then slowly started moving up and down on it.

Charles realized he was getting an erection and shifted uncomfortably just before he noticed Erik's eyes on his again, both smoky and amused, and Charles realized none Erik's movements had been on accident. Pressing his lips together, Charles looked out the window on his side of the bus, away from Erik. He was sure he knew what Erik thought of him, especially after that little display - that Charles was deeply in the closet, too afraid to admit what he wanted. 

_He's right,_ a terrible little voice whispered inside Charles' head, although he'd had the same argument with himself many times. He knew the rebuttal, too. _I know I'm not gay because I was deeply and passionately in love with a woman, and we would still be together if she were still alive._ That, Charles knew beyond a doubt. 

The logical deduction was not one Charles was ready to contemplate, so instead he tried to imagine what that evening would bring. 

"Is there a dress code for tonight?" he asked Erik abruptly. "I left my tuxedo in New York."

"It's pretty much anything goes," Erik said with a shrug.

**

"You weren't exaggerating about anything goes," Charles said faintly as the limo inched closer to the theatre and Charles noticed how impressively flamboyant the clothing of some of the movie premiere attendees was. There were people dressed in nearly nothing as well as a lot of drag queens. There were several wannabe Liberaces in the crowd, and yet there were also people wearing evening clothes that would be perfectly acceptable at the Republican National Convention. 

Charles was wearing the suit that he had packed once he saw that Erik also planned to wear a suit. He felt he looked good, although not half as good as Erik looked. 

"Charles," Erik said.

Charles snapped his gaze from practically having his nose pressed against the tinted window to look at Erik. "Yes?"

Erik looked slightly chagrined. "I know I wasn’t really clear about this in advance, but--I'm going to walk down the red carpet. There are lots of cameras and reporters. I--know I should have warned you sooner, but I was--anyway. If you want to stay in the limo, I can arrange--"

Charles shook his head, even though his stomach was full of butterflies. "No. I'll go with you. What kind of spouse would I be to abandon you to the wolves of the red carpet?" He smiled, but it was a nervous smile. 

As the driver got out to walk around and open the door for them, Charles realized that his primary motivation was not to disappoint Erik. He didn't have much time to think about what that implied before he was standing next to Erik on the red carpet and bright lights were flashing all around him. 

Erik leaned close to his ear and Charles heard the clicking of shutters moving even faster for a moment. "I would tell you to smile, but you look pretty sexy when you frown," Erik whispered in his ear. 

Charles did smile a little at that, feeling more self-conscious than he ever had in his life. Erik put a hand on his back and gently urged him forward. 

There were people everywhere. The biggest crowds were behind the velvet rope barriers on either side of the red carpet path to the front of the theatre, but even the red carpet was pretty crowded with attractive people that Charles half-recognized. They had only walked a few feet when a woman with a Jennifer Aniston haircut holding a microphone labelled 'Entertainment Tonight' stopped them. A hairy, bored-looking man was holding a video camera on his shoulder behind her. "Erik Lehnsherr," she said with a big smile. "How are you this evening?" She was looking at Charles with a frozen smile even as Erik answered her question. 

"Doing very well, thank you," he replied smoothly. "We're excited to see Jeffrey."

_Who is Jeffrey?_ Charles wondered.

"'We'?" The reporter asked, pouncing on the opportunity like a jackal. "Who is your--companion this evening?"

Erik looked at Charles with slightly raised eyebrows, asking if Charles wanted to be introduced. "I'm Charles Xavier," Charles said before he could think about it very long. "Visiting from New York." 

"And how long have you two been seeing each other?" The woman simpered. 

Erik laughed. "Charles is just a friend," he said, the epitome of suave. "He volunteered at the amfAR conference last week in New York."

"He won me," Charles said, although he immediately regretted it when both the reporter and Erik immediately gave him shocked looks. "It was a charity auction," he added quickly, "I'm his, um, spouse for the week?" 

"Well isn't that fun," the reporter cooed. She motioned the cameraman to refocus on Erik and Charles. 

"Well, for me, yes," Charles said, trying to think how he could dig his way out of the hole that he'd dug for himself. "Here I am thinking I'll be cleaning house and doing yard work for a week, when instead I'm going to Golden Gate park and movie premieres. Erik has been very understanding of our cultural differences," He said finally, hoping that was a nice way to say it. 

"Cultural differences?" The reporter asked, of course.

"Charles was hoping to be ‘won’ by a woman," Erik said, still smiling, but with a slightly less pleasant voice. "If you will excuse us?" Seeing an opening in the red-carpet crowd, he guided Charles away from the reporter and into the theatre. 

Even though lots of people were calling his name, Erik did no more than smile and look in their direction when they did so. He declined any more requests for interviews. 

"Did I fuck that up?" Charles asked anxiously, in a low voice, as they _finally_ got into the lobby of the theatre where press weren't allowed. 

Erik squeezed his shoulder. "You did fine, Charles. Keep in mind that they can and do take anything even slightly titillating out of context, though." 

Oh. _He won me. I'm his spouse for the week._ Charles' cheeks burned. He looked at Erik only to see the man looking at him with what was undeniably fondness. 

"I don't think it will ruin your career," Erik said softly. 

Charles smiled back, knowing Erik was right. Hell, it would probably boost his ratings. 

But then again, that had never been the real reason. 

"Is that a bar?" He asked Erik. He continued without waiting for an answer. "I'm getting a drink. Would you like something?"

"No, thank you, but I don't think--" Charles missed the rest of his sentence because he was walking rapidly towards the bar. He held up a hand to Erik to indicate that he would be right back. 

"Scotch, double, neat," Charles told the bartender. 

"I've got bourbon."

"That's fine."

He tipped the bartender generously (after all, he was sure he would be having more drinks that evening) and headed back towards Erik. 

He smiled at Erik, feeling better already. "The best social lubricant I know."

Erik raised an eyebrow at him, a slow smirk stealing across his face. 

"You know what I meant," Charles muttered, hiding his smile in another sip. "Why nothing for you? I know you drink; you did on the plane."

There was something hot about his gaze. "I don't drink when I'm working."

"This is working?" Charles raised his eyebrows and looked around the theatre lobby. 

"If there's media around, it's work."

Charles shrugged and had another sip. Whatever he had felt so anxious about was slipping away from him. All that really mattered was that he was hanging out with his new friend and they were going to see a movie and have a good time.

**

The mystery of who 'Jeffrey' was cleared up very soon - it was the name of the movie. It was actually a very good movie, a romantic comedy about a gay man looking for love. It was a little campy, but also poignant, and Charles enjoyed it - enjoyed seeing Erik's teeth glint in his direction anytime Charles laughed. 

"Did you like it?" Erik asked afterward, his voice carefully neutral.

"Oh yes, you couldn't tell? It was really funny. I love Patrick Stewart; he was especially hilarious."

Erik smiled. "I agree. I wish he'd been here tonight; I would introduce you."

Charles was impressed. "You know Jean Luc-Picard?" he squealed despite himself. 

Erik laughed and reached for Charles before abruptly aborting the movement. Charles was confused a moment and then realized that Erik was probably trying not to make Charles uncomfortable by touching him too much. Even though it didn't make Charles uncomfortable. Not in the way it should. 

"Erik Lehnsherr!" A plump bald man man wearing a feather boa walked up to Erik and kissed him on both cheeks. "Darling! We have to catch up."

"I'm just going to get another drink," Charles said to Erik as he nodded distractedly and started talking to his friend. 

Charles went to the bar and ordered another bourbon. The bartender remembered his generous tip from earlier and served him very quickly, so Charles stayed at the bar a moment longer, watching Erik talk to his friend from about thirty feet away. They stood very close, and Erik had his hand on the man's back, just like he'd had his hand on Charles' back earlier...

"Another?" Charles asked the bartender. He was nearly done with the one he'd just ordered, after all. 

"I'll get that for you, if you want," a man next to Charles said. Charles turned a little too fast and the world didn't quite catch up for a second and he swayed and almost fell.

"Hey," the man said with a smile, putting a hand on Charles' arm. "Be careful, you don't want to fall over at the bar. People make assumptions."

Charles finally looked up at the man's face. He was very handsome, in a very clean-cut, wholesome, blond-haired, blue-eyed way. "Did you offer to buy me a drink?" he said, confused. 

The man smiled. "I did. I'm Steve. Can I buy you a drink?" 

The drink in question was already in Charles' hand, because that bartender was some sort of magician. "Um. Better not." He fumbled with his wallet and brought out some cash for the bartender. "Thank you, though," he said belatedly. "It's just that I'm--" Charles couldn't think of a way to finish the sentence so he just waved his hand in the air like he was indicating himself. 

Steve seemed to find it slightly amusing. "Are you here with someone?"

"Yes!" Charles said, like it was a victory. "Yes. I am here with someone. He's...over there." Charles frowned. "But we're not--I mean, I'm not--although you are...you know, well, you know what you are."

Charles was saved from his increasingly bungled attempts at communication with Steve when Erik showed up behind Steve. "Excuse me," he said, coming to stand at Charles' side. He froze when he saw Steve's face. 

Steve looked at Erik in shock. "Lehnsherr? Wow. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Erik's face hardened. "Captain Rogers. Well. _I_ wasn't expecting a dishonorable discharge." He put an arm around Charles' shoulders and started to turn him to go, but Steve stopped him. 

"That's not fair and you know it," Steve said levelly to Erik. 

"I know that you could have said something," Erik snapped. "Instead of throwing me under the bus." 

Charles' eyes were big as he tried to follow what was happening. "Erik?" he said softly. 

Erik turned to look at him and his facial expression changed. The sneer went away and was replaced with a softness around his eyes. "Let's get out of here," he murmured, nearly into Charles' hair. 

"What was that about?" Charles asked once they were outside. It was a pretty thoughtless question considering he could tell Erik didn't want to talk about it, but his inhibitions were pretty much gone because of the alcohol he'd consumed. 

As he expected, Erik was stony-faced. "I'd rather not talk about it," he said as they approached the curb where there was a line of people waiting to catch a taxi.

"Was he an ex-boyfriend?"

"Charles..." Erik sighed. "I honor your boundaries, will you please honor mine?"

That stung. Charles turned away from Erik and into the wind, which is why his eyes teared up a little. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Erik moved so that he was blocking the wind for Charles and Charles leaned closer to him because he was emanating heat. 

After a moment, Erik said, "I'll tell you, just not--right now."

"Okay," Charles said softly. He just wanted to close his eyes and lean fully into Erik, fold himself into that warmth, but he refrained. 

They were almost at the front of the line for taxis when Erik said, "There's somewhere I'd like to take you, if you can stay awake?" There was amusement in his voice. 

"Of course I can stay awake!" Charles said indignantly. "It's only ten o'clock, and I'm on vacation." 

Erik smiled. "Good." Charles was glad to see that whatever had upset him earlier seemed not to be bothering him anymore. 

**

The place Erik wanted to take him was a restaurant, which was good, because Charles realized belatedly that he was really hungry. The restaurant had a patio with a glass roof and walls with a stunning view of a fog-enshrouded Bay Bridge, lit by the lights on the bridge.

"Oh, wow," Charles said as the hostess seated them. "This is beautiful. And not freezing!" 

Erik laughed. "That's why I thought of it. You seem to get cold easily."

Charles couldn't really deny that, but he still found a reason to be indignant. "It's _summer._ It's _California_. You didn't tell me to pack for cold!"

Erik was incapable of not smiling at Charles’ drunken defense. "Mea culpa," he said softly.

The hostess arrived with the glass of wine Charles had ordered and for a few minutes, both men just admired the view of the bridge and the shifting fog. 

Charles looked at Erik with parted lips and wide eyes for what felt like several minutes after that. "Why do you like me?" he asked, his face open and curious.

Erik had no words to answer him, wasn't even sure of the context of the question, but he couldn't look away from Charles’ face. "I don't know how to answer that, Charles."

"I mean you..." Charles scooted closer to Erik. They were sitting next to each other on bench seating, the best way to admire the view of the bridge. "You could have anyone you wanted. I mean, have you seen you?"

Erik smiled. "You're drunk, Charles," he said in a voice like velvet. 

"You are..." Charles placed a hand flat in the middle of Erik's chest. "You are gorgeous. And you have an amazing body." His hand was very slowly moving down Erik's chest, and his eyes were following his hand. 

"Charles," Erik said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Charles abruptly drew his hand away. "It had to be you, didn't it?" He took a sip of his wine, looking away.

"What do you mean?" Erik could breathe a little more easily with Charles' hand off his chest, but he was still incredibly aroused. 

"I mean, of all the men in the world that had to take a fancy to me, it had to be you," Charles said. 

"Me? I still don't understand."

"You're the one person that--that Gabby--we would--oh, god, I can't tell you that," Charles said, running a hand through his hair and messing it up adorably. 

"You really _can_ tell me," Erik murmured because the desire to know felt like it was burning him inside. Charles was clearly too drunk for Erik to have sex with him, even if Charles wanted that, but Erik was not above taking advantage of the tongue-loosening effects of alcohol to get Charles to talk. Maybe there would be revelations. 

Still, Charles shook his head vigorously. "Uh-uh. I would be so embarrassed."

"Did you and your wife used to talk about me?" Erik guessed, idly fondling the butterknife next to his plate. He had always found touching metal to be oddly soothing.

Charles' eyes were locked on the movement of Erik’s fingers. He swallowed but did not reply, staring at Erik's hand on the butterknife.. 

Erik couldn't let it drop. "Maybe you talked about having a threesome with me," he said in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper. 

Charles' breathing changed. "She knew," Charles whispered. "She knew what I--and she didn't care. She liked it. When we would--she would talk about...me sucking your cock."

Erik tried to cough and swallow at the same time and it came out a confused choked sound. "That's very open-minded of her," he managed to say, and took a sip of Charles' wine. 

Charles pointedly took his wine glass back. "That's your takeaway?" he teased, giving Erik a smirking, coy look.

"Well, I'm assuming that wasn't you propositioning me," Erik said evenly, carefully. 

"It wasn't," Charles confirmed, his smile fading, not looking at Erik, and instead finishing his glass of wine. 

"Even though you are attracted to me and apparently have been for a long time," Erik continued. 

Charles' face was flushed red. "That's not--I can't let that--" he shook his head firmly. 

"Help me understand, Charles," Erik said in a low voice, at the end of his patience. "You want me and you know I want you. Neither of us is married or in a relationship. Why are we not fucking right now?" Erik felt like a predator on the prowl, but he was fighting a losing battle with his libido. 

"Because I don't do that," Charles said, firmly but with a slight quaver in his voice. "That's not who I am."

"Because you like women?" Erik asked. Charles was nodding and about to speak, but Erik continued. "There's a word for that, Charles. Bi--."

"No," Charles said loudly, suddenly upset. He tried to stand up but hit the table and immediately sat back down hard. "I'm not--just because I...I don’t...I need to get out of here." He tried to stand up a second time and the exact same thing happened. 

Erik put his hand over Charles'. He felt like an asshole. He knew Charles wasn't ready and he'd pressured him to label himself anyway. "Wait. I'm sorry, Charles. Please don't go. I shouldn't have said that."

"You must think I'm awful," Charles said after a moment. He looked miserable. "I'm not normally--like this, I’m not usually so…” He couldn’t find the right word and it took him a while to find one that fit even a little. “--flaky. It's been a very odd couple of days."

_I'll bet it has,_ Erik thought and then felt guilty about the thought. "I don't think you're awful," Erik said quietly, fiddling with his butterknife again. "I haven't lived your life. I shouldn't presume to know what's good for you better than you do."

"No, you shouldn't," Charles agreed. The waitress brought their food and another glass of wine for Charles then, and both men were happy to change the subject at that point. 

**

After dinner, in the cab home, Charles was still drunk thanks to the three glasses of wine he’d had with dinner. He fell asleep in the cab and Erik had to gently shake him awake when they reached Erik’s ‘apartment.’

Charles blearily let himself be led upstairs. Once in the apartment he walked over to the bed and started haphazardly undressing. His coat was thrown over the privacy screen and immediately fell to the ground. The tie was flung across the room and disappeared. Shoes and socks were kicked off and left in the middle of the room, and his pants and shirt were left in a pile on the floor at the side of the bed as Charles crawled under the covers in only his boxers. 

Erik watched the undressing hurricane, almost paralyzed by feeling too many things at once. He was annoyed at Charles for being either closeted and/or a tease, and for tossing clothing willy-nilly around the room, but he also found Charles’ drunk undressing adorable. 

“I am doomed,” he muttered to himself, undressing next to 'his side' of the bed and folding each item as he took it off, leaving them in a neat stack on the dresser. He turned out the light and then got into the opposite side of the bed wearing a T-shirt and boxers.

“What did you say?” Charles mumbled. 

“How are you not asleep?” Erik asked, trying not to sound too fond. 

“Too cold.”

“Well, you’re the one who got into bed without a shirt,” Erik pointed out. He heard and felt the blankets shifting and then very cold feet touched his legs. He yelped. The feet stayed. 

It was all too surreal. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or yell at Charles. Then the rest of Charles’ body moved closer to him, huddled next to him pathetically, and Erik obeyed his instinct and put an arm around Charles. Charles immediately snuggled closer. 

He smelled of wine and whiskey. Erik sighed and and considering everything decided to just try and sleep. At least the other man’s feet had warmed up and didn’t feel so cold anymore. However, Erik wasn’t used to sleeping with someone so close to him and it took him a while for sleep to come. When he had almost achieved unconsciousness, Charles started speaking.

“I never thought about cuddling with a man. Not really. I thought about...bodies, and...other things, but cuddling wasn’t something I ever thought about.”

Erik was instantly awake, but he wasn’t sure what to say to that, or if Charles even knew that Erik was hearing him. Erik thought about not responding, but it felt too dishonest. “This was your idea, not mine.”

“I know,” Charles said softly. He turned his head so his nose was facing Erik’s armpit. “Why do you smell so good? You’re not supposed to smell good.”

“You smell like wine and whiskey,” Erik said. 

“That’s not very nice,” Charles said. It sounded like he was pouting. 

“I thought you liked my honesty.”

“Well, nobody wants to smell bad.”

Erik couldn’t help laughing at that. He pulled Charles closer and breathed into his hair. “Okay, you smell good. Are you happy?”

“Happi _er._ ”

Erik gave him the slightest squeeze, just a tightening of his arm, and started to drift off to sleep again. That’s when Charles did it again - woke him up just as he was almost out.

“I’ve never kissed a man before.”

_Do you want to fuck or not?_ Erik wanted to yell. Instead he sighed. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“...why not? Hypo--hypothetically.”

“Because you’re drunk,” he said wearily. “Can we please go to sleep?”

“But you would kiss me if I was sober? Hypothetically?” 

“Hypothetically, If it would shut you up, yes.” 

Charles laughed a little against his chest before sighing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, you shouldn't,” Erik murmured before he finally, _finally_ was able to sleep.


	4. Logan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning at end of Chapter (mild, IMHO)

Erik woke up before the sun the next morning, with an erection so hard it was painful. Charles had mercifully rolled away him during the night and was still quite obviously dead to the world, on his back with his mouth hanging open. He was snoring lightly. 

The blankets were pushed down around Charles’ waist and Erik had a clear view of his chest and stomach. Although he was far from muscular, Charles had a smooth chest with just the right amount of definition in Erik’s opinion. He had a little bit of a belly, just enough that Erik wanted to nibble it. He forced himself to look away. He needed to get laid. Or jerk off, at least, but it seemed the small confines of the studio apartment had backfired on him. He was not one to jerk off in the bathroom or the shower; he preferred to be lying on his back. 

He also needed to make a phone call, and it was not one he wanted Charles to overhear, and in this small apartment there was no chance Charles wouldn’t hear. He tried to think of a valid reason to go out if Charles woke up before he got back and his stomach growled. "Oh, perfect," Erik murmured to himself. They needed food anyway; he would tell Charles he had gone out to the grocery store.

Erik quietly and quickly dressed in gray sweats and left the apartment to run his errands.

**

When he arrived back, about three-quarters of an hour later, Charles was awake and looking in the refrigerator. He spoke to Erik without looking at him when he heard the front door open. “Do you know that you have literally no food at all?” Charles asked him incredulously. “No coffee, either. I’m beginning to think I have been remiss in my spousal duties. Should we go grocery shopping?” He looked over the refrigerator door to see Erik with a brown paper bag in his arm. "Oh, well that explains that." He took the bag from Erik and set it on the counter, rubbing his hands together. "I suppose I will do my spousal duty by cooking us breakfast, then!"

Bemused, Erik let Charles have the bag. "You're not hungover?"

Charles had donned a T-shirt so he was wearing that in addition to his boxers. He waved away Erik's question as he took items out of the bag and examined them one by one. "No, I wasn't that drunk," he said dismissively. "Did you get coffee?"

"I got coffee, eggs, orange juice, bread, butter, and, um, bacon," Erik said. "Plus cream and sugar for coffee."

"You are an angel," Charles beamed, setting to work making the coffee. 

"You are a morning person," Erik observed with a little amusement. 

"Not for the first thirty minutes or so that I'm awake, to be honest," Charles said, pouring water in the coffeemaker. "I'm more of a mid-morning person." He flashed a grin at Erik, then took a deep breath. "Alright." He looked at the food lined up on the counter. 

"Is something missing?" Erik asked, when Charles had been silently studying the food for a moment. 

"No. I mean, I don't think so. I just haven't done this much. Gabby always did the cooking, and when she passed away...well, David actually took over most of it." Charles smiled a little, his eyes unfocused and looking into the distance. "He's always had a knack for it, just like Gabby did. Jean and I always preferred the eating part better." 

Erik remembered the gesture Charles had made when he'd been asked about cooking at the auction. _I make a mean grilled cheese?_

"I don't cook much either," Erik admitted. 

"You probably eat out a lot," Charles guessed, looking for pans in the cabinets. 

"Um, something like that. Can I help you find something?" He probably couldn't, but it seemed rude not to offer. 

"Well, I'm certain I can fry eggs, and make toast, but I'm less familiar with how to make bacon..." Charles voice trailed off, a clear hint.

Erik coughed. "I won't be much help for you there, I'm afraid. I don't eat bacon."

Charles, on his knees on the floor and peering into a cabinet, looked at him in surprise and then understanding. "Oh, right! You're Jewish. Sorry, I'd forgotten."

"Well, it's understandable, seeing as how I never told you," Erik said curiously. He couldn't help but notice how deliciously rounded Charles' bum was in his boxers. 

"Oh, well, you know, I read it somewhere," Charles said vaguely, pulling a cookie sheet out of the cabinet. "Does this look good for cooking bacon?"

"I have no idea," Erik said honestly. "Where did you read it?" It wasn't something that he mentioned frequently in his column or in his writing, although he had never gone out of his way to hide it. 

"It's called bacon. I think that means I bake it." Charles looked at Erik, chewing on his lower lip. "That makes sense, right?"

"Sounds reasonable," Erik agreed. "You really have read most of my columns, haven't you?"

Even though Charles was facing away from him, Erik could see that the tips of his ears were red. "I wonder how long and what temperature?" He said out loud, looking at the bacon package. "It doesn't say."

"I could call--" Erik cut himself off. No, he didn't want to make that call. But at least it had given Charles an idea. 

"I could call David!" He said brightly. He looked at Erik. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No, no, of course not," Erik said, distracted. Charles had told him that he was familiar with Erik, but Erik hadn't realized quite how familiar. 

Charles was on the phone and chatting excitedly with his sister and then his son. Erik watched the joy on his face as he laughed at something his son said. This charming, happy man had been keeping tabs on Erik for a while. He and his wife used to talk about him during sex. Erik felt something in his chest that almost made it hurt, something powerful but incredibly tender at the same time. 

Erik walked a few feet away and looked out the window at the foggy buildings as Charles continued talking on the phone. He felt like he was starting to panic a little. He was in way over his head; he was feeling so much for a man who insisted he was straight; a man with children, no less. And it wasn't just that Charles _had_ children; part of what made him so attractive was the way he talked about and interacted with his children. 

And that didn't make any sense at all, because Erik didn't want any part of the whole marriage-and-kids thing. 

"I give you a call back soon, and we can talk about that later, okay?" Charles said into the receiver, shooting a quick glance at Erik. "Right now we're--I'm trying to survive breakfast."

"Well, David had a good laugh at my expense," Charles said with a grin as he hung up the phone. "I guess we're not supposed to bake bacon after all. We're supposed to fry it. How does that make sense?"

"It doesn't," Erik said weakly. 

Charles turned to look at him, his good humor fading. "Erik? Is everything alright?"

Erik tried to think of something that wasn’t 'the way you interact with your kids is really attractive and it's freaking me out'. His mind cast desperately about for another subject. “Um. How much do you remember of last night?”

“Oh. I think I remember everything. Wait, we didn’t…?” Charles' face immediately went red. 

“No, no,” Erik said hastily. “I was thinking about--earlier. Captain Steve Rogers.” He hadn’t been at all, actually, but he had promised to tell Charles about that anyway. 

A strange look crossed Charles’ face. “Oh, right,” he said. “Steve. He was very...nice.”

Erik shrugged, wondering if anyone ever had described Erik as 'nice'. “I guess he is. He’s not my ex, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

"Okay," Charles said, “Keep going, I’m listening.” He pulled out a large frying pan and started putting bacon in it. 

“We served in the Gulf war together,” Erik said, looking away from Charles to fiddle with the strings that cinched the hood on his sweater. “In 1990. He was my commanding officer. He knew I was gay from pretty much day one, and I knew he was queer, too. Not too many other people knew. Then one day I’m told to report for exit processing...I found out I was being dishonorably discharged. I found out later that Rogers had gotten married just in time to avoid being discharged himself.”

“You think that’s why he got married?” Charles asked curiously, adding cream to his coffee. 

“I--I don’t know. There's a good chance it was real, actually. He told me he was bi. But in the eyes of the military, there’s really only gay or straight, so marrying a woman would have put him above reproach.” There was a bitterness to Erik’s voice. 

“Do you miss being in the--what branch was it, the army?” The bacon was sizzling nicely and Charles took a step back to avoid the splatter. 

“Army, yes. But no...I don’t really miss it. I think...being a soldier brought out the worst in me. But anyway, a dishonorable discharge? The pension I’d been counting on is gone and now it’s something I have to explain anytime I apply for work, which of course means I have to disclose my sexual orientation.”

Charles glanced at Erik. "But everyone knows that about you anyway."

Erik raised his eyebrows slightly. "Everyone who reads my column religiously, perhaps."

Charles' eyes widened slightly and he busied himself with putting some bread into the toaster. “So what did Steve have to do with it? Do you think he turned you in?"

“I don't think he turned me in," Erik said slowly. "Not intentionally, anyway. It's not his style. But he was my commanding officer, so he must have known what was happening. And the timing of his marriage…” Erik trailed off and shrugged. “I just feel like he could have done something to prevent my being discharged.”

“I see,” Charles said. “But it doesn’t really seem like it was his fault. And if you didn't want to be in the Army anymore anyway...except for the missing pension, it doesn't seem that bad."

Erik pressed his lips together. This was not something he thought about a lot, but on some level he knew his anger at Rogers was irrational. 

"And you have done--" Charles gestured around the room with a spatula. "--well for yourself. So maybe the pension isn't that big of a loss either." 

"I just expected more from Rogers," Erik said stiffly. "He's family. He should have had my back."

Charles gave Erik a puzzled look. "Family?"

"You know. Queer."

"Ah," Charles said, turning back to the stove. "You don't feel like he was...some sort of traitor, because he was bisexual?" Charles asked the question slowly, poking at the bacon sizzling in the pan. 

"Not because he was bi, no," Erik said carefully. "I felt a little betrayed that he hadn't interceded in my discharge, but--"

"But he married a woman," Charles pressed. "You didn't resent him being able to do that?"

Erik sighed. It felt like Charles was exposing his faults with a scalpel and it was uncomfortable. "Okay, maybe a bit. But it's not like _I_ want to get married. I don't." He knew that Charles was going to read more into his words, but he couldn't bring himself to lie.

"You don't want to get married?" Charles was not looking at him, still fiddling with the bacon. 

"Well, I certainly don't want to marry a woman, and it's not like I could marry a man anyway."

"But - a long term relationship? A life partner? That doesn't appeal to you in any way?" Charles was looking at him while he asked, his blue eyes curious and compassionate. 

"It's a fantasy," Erik said bluntly. "There's no such thing as a 'life partnership.' People genuinely love each other for a few years, maybe, and then they want to get out."

Charles looked at Erik in disbelief and pity. "You can't really believe that?"

Erik realized he was getting into dangerous territory, considering what Charles had said about his wife already to Erik. "Maybe it's not true for everyone," he said, although he really _did_ think it was true for everyone, "But it's true for me."

Charles was quiet for a few minutes after that. "I think the bacon's done," Charles announced a moment later. "I'll clean the pan before frying the eggs, so you don't eat bacon grease." He flashed a quick smile over his shoulder at Erik, but it was missing some of the sparkle it had had earlier. 

"That's very considerate of you," Erik murmured. 

Erik went and showered while Charles tried to make fried eggs and ended up with something that he called 'scrambled eggs' but which didn't really look like the scrambled eggs Erik had ever had before. But they tasted fine, and Erik thought it wasn't really fair to tease when he probably wouldn't have done much better himself.

"Oh," Charles said, as if he had just remembered something, as they were nearing the end of their meal. "I'll need to do a live _Love in the Nineties_ tonight. My producer located a studio here in San Francisco for that. I'll need to be there about seven o'clock - the show goes from eight to ten, so I should be home by eleven."

"Okay," Erik said slowly. He wasn't sure why Charles was telling him. "Do you need a ride, or...?" 

"No, I'll take a cab," Charles said. "I'm just telling you in case you have other plans, another movie premiere, that sort of thing." He looked perfectly at ease, taking a bite of his toast. 

"Oh," Erik said. "No, nothing like that tonight." He had been thinking of renting a movie and staying in...and seeing if perhaps in the right setting sober Charles still wanted to kiss him, with some gentle coaxing. But if Charles had plans...perhaps Erik could make other plans. 

He mulled it over as Charles cheerfully washed the dishes, humming some unrecognizable melody. He could visit home, and he probably should, but he also needed to do something else, and perhaps with Charles gone it would afford him the opportunity. 

"What do you do to blow off steam?" Charles asked suddenly, turning around. 

Erik blinked at him. "What do _I_ do?" He let his eyes travel down Charles' body in case the answer wasn't obvious. 

Charles pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Erik, amused and exasperated. "Let me rephrase the question. Are you a member of a gym?"

"Yes," Erik said. "Do you want to work out?"

"Yes, I would like that," Charles said, calmly sipping his coffee and not-so-subtly checking out Erik, who had put on a tight black tank top upon getting out of the shower. "If your busy calendar allows for it."

"Working out is an important part of maintaining my image," Erik said seriously. "Also, the gym is a great place to meet guys."

Charles rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you don't have any trouble 'meeting guys'."

"No, I don't," Erik said calmly, smiling. "Because I go to the gym."

**

Charles had a vague expectation that Erik's gym would be filled with well-muscled young men wearing tight and scant clothing, which made him feel a sort of high-strung, giddy anxiety. But the place they took a cab to was darker than Charles expected, with unfinished concrete floors; it seemed to take up the whole basement level of a old brick building. 

Inside, although there were windows, most of them were covered or painted over, and not neatly. There wasn’t cardio equipment; most of the equipment was free weights. The people working out were mostly men, and were generally older and more grizzled than Charles had been anticipating. He wasn’t disappointed, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t what Charles had been expecting. “You meet men at this gym?” he said doubtfully to Erik. 

Erik looked at him out of the side of his eye with a smug smile. “I meet men everywhere. Here, I can actually get an uninterrupted workout, sometimes.” 

Charles acknowledged Erik’s comment by raising his eyebrow glumly, and Erik nearly laughed. “Did you want me to take you somewhere with more eye candy, Charles?” he asked innocently.

Charles ignored Erik’s comment and walked further into the gym. There was actually quite a lot of space in the gym, and Charles could see another room where at least two boxing rings were set-up. “Do you want to spar?” he asked Erik, before turning to look at the other man. 

Erik looked surprised. “Spar?”

“Yes. I boxed at Oxford, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Erik said. “I...suppose we could do that.” He was clearly hesitant.

“I doubt that I will actually hurt you,” Charles said, his lips twitching with wanting to smile. 

Erik snorted. “I’m not worried about that. I have a feeling boxing at Oxford is...more formal than the kind of sparring I’m trained in. I’ll need to know what the expectations are.”

“Marquess of Queensberry rules,” Charles said briskly. “No hitting below the belt, No holding, tripping, pushing, biting, or spitting. No kicking, head-butting, or hitting with any part of the arm other than the knuckles of your closed fist. Um…” he thought a moment. “No hitting the back, back of the neck, or head, or the kidneys.”

Erik looked very doubtful. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t--this is not how I approach--”

Charles looked at him beseechingly. “Give it a shot? I haven’t boxed in a long time. I miss it.”

Erik sighed. “Okay, I’ll go round us up some gloves.” 

“And mouthguards?” Charles suggested. “I don’t want to ruin your pretty smile.” He grinned at Erik ferociously. 

“And mouthguards,” Erik said, agreeing, bemused. 

**

Erik borrowed the gloves and purchased the mouthguards from the front desk. He entered the ring after Charles, and his instincts took over right away, sizing up Charles as an opponent--his center of gravity was low, his weight on the balls of his feet. He was constantly moving and he probably expected that speed was one of his advantages, but Erik knew he was faster. Erik, in contrast, was extremely efficient with his movements, moving carefully, almost sinuously. 

Charles grinned at him, his hands up in the guard position. Erik mirrored it, feeling a little silly. “Ready?” Charles said, obviously excited, although his mouth and words were somewhat obscured by the mouth guard. 

Erik nodded grimly. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

Charles threw a test punch that Erik swerved to avoid. The surprise on Charles’ face at how quickly Erik moved was evident, and Erik’s fighting instinct told him that was his opportunity to strike back. 

But he didn’t want to. 

_This was a bad idea,_ he realized at that moment. He had been trained to fight for war, not for sport. Erik had only ever fought when he needed to, and his instincts were to take down his opponents quickly and permanently. Charles swung again, with a little more intention, and Erik found himself sweeping Charles’ legs out from under him before he could remember if that was against the rules or not. 

Charles landed heavily on his back with a grunt. “That’s not…” He trailed off and shook his head, grimacing.

Erik spit out his mouthguard. “Are you alright?” He asked, offering Charles a hand up. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I should do this with you.”

“I’m fine, although _you_ could use a review on what is allowed and what isn’t,” Charles said, spitting out his own mouth guard and frowning at Erik. “And, why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Erik said simply. 

“Well, aren’t you cocky,” Charles said, his voice lower and thicker than usual. “You’re so certain that I will be the one to get hurt.” He threw another punch that Erik easily avoided. 

Erik was very good at sizing up his opponents, and Charles was giving off far more sex partner vibes than combatant vibes. “This isn’t what you want,” Erik said, dodging a right-left pair of punches. 

“How do you know what I want?” Charles grunted, attempting an uppercut with a little more speed since Erik was so good at avoiding his fists. 

Erik avoided the uppercut and stepped close to Charles, too close to punch, and then slipped behind him. “Because we both want the same thing.” He wrapped an arm around Charles’ neck from the back and while he simultaneously twisted his left arm up behind him, not enough to hurt.

“This is not boxing,” Charles said mildly, but the tension in his body told a different story. He wasn’t struggling, but he was breathing heavy. 

“Do you like this?” Erik whispered to Charles suggestively, his nose touching the shell of Charles’ ear. “I can think of some better ways to ‘blow off steam’ than fighting, can’t you?”

Abruptly Charles’ free right arm elbowed Erik in the solar plexus, to Erik’s surprise. He grunted and moved to the left, which is when Charles used the advantage of his lower center of gravity to bend forward and haul Erik over his shoulder and onto the ground. Erik landed heavily on his back, almost exactly the way Charles had earlier. 

Charles stood over him, breathing heavily. “My friend, I’m sorry, but we _do not_ want the same thing.” 

He stood back from Erik, not offering him a hand up. Erik silently got to his feet. 

“I’m going to go lift some free weights,” Charles said, breathing hard still, but his expression unreadable. He took off the gloves, dropping them behind him carelessly, as he strode off. 

_Now_ , Erik wanted to punch something. He kept his gloves on and found a punching bag in the corner of the room and strode purposefully towards it - only to be interrupted by a hand on his chest. 

“Excuse me,” the man attached to the hand said. “I think I’ve seen you here before.”

Erik’s eyes gave the man a quick once-over. He was a muscular man, in a plaid flannel shirt, with dark hair that was oddly styled. He had sideburns and an impressive physique, a little shorter than Erik. He was standing too close to be casual. 

“You do look somewhat familiar,” Erik murmured, letting his eyes linger on the man’s lips before he looked him in the eye. 

“I’m Logan,” the man said. “You’re Erik Lehnsherr. I was hoping you might want to get together sometime.”

This was exactly up Erik’s alley - an attractive man, a sure thing, a direct approach. He smiled a little. “How about tonight?”

Logan’s eyebrows rose as he smiled a little. “You don’t, ah, have other plans?” His eyes flickered in the direction that Charles had stalked off in. 

Charles had told him he had a radio show to record that night. “No, I’m free.”

**

Charles didn’t speak much in the cab on the way home from the gym. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Erik wanted to know what was on his mind, but considering the tension of their interaction earlier, he also didn’t want to instigate an argument. 

But Charles actually volunteered the reason for his melancholy once they got back to the apartment. “I miss my children,” he told Erik suddenly. “I’ve haven’t been away from them this long since Gabby passed away. Do you think I could…?” He didn’t finish, but looked at Erik imploringly. 

“Whatever you want, Charles,” Erik said. “You don’t need my permission if you want to visit your children. They could visit you here, perhaps, although the accommodations are tight.” Erik looked for a moment like he might have regretted saying what he just had, so Charles hurried to respond.

“Oh, I’ll visit them,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to presume on your hospitality more than I already have.”

Something like guilt twisted Erik’s stomach at that statement, as he was starting to feel anytime Charles referenced the apartment they were staying in. It wasn’t hospitality. It was a sex trap that seemed to be failing.

“Well, Sacramento is an expensive cab ride,” Erik said reasonably. “I could rent a car for you…?”

“That’s very generous of you,” Charles said, after an awkward pause, his brow furrowed. “But I think I’ll talk to Raven and see what we can work out.”

“Alright,” Erik said. “I’m going to take first shower?”

Charles nodded and waved him to it as he went for the phone. 

**

“Raven, I don’t know what your schedule is like, but I’d like to come visit you.”

Raven’s voice crackled through the phone line. “We were wondering if you were going to get around to that! Being in San Francisco and all. David and Jean miss you.”

“I miss them, too,” Charles said, smiling even though there was also a lump in his throat. “How is tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine, except I think you should know that David wants us to come to you. He’s never been to San Francisco.”

“Oh, well, maybe we could meet up somewhere, then - I suppose that would work out better, considering that I don’t have a car.”

“Oh, David is telling me to tell you that he wants to meet Erik Lehnsherr.”

Charles froze. “Why would he say that?”

“Well, aren’t you staying with him?”

Charles had deliberately _not_ mentioned Erik when he had spoken to Raven and David that morning. “Why do you think I’m staying with him?” Charles asked carefully. 

“Tell Daddy I saw him on TV!” Charles heard Jean crowing in the background. Charles closed his eyes. Oh, God. His children had seen the him on television. With Erik. 

David was yelling something as well, and Raven was clearly holding up the receiver to face them before she laughingly pulled it back to her mouth. “Yep, we all saw you on TV with Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Shit,” Charles said. “Why didn’t you say something? I mean when we first got on the phone?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be on TV?” She challenged him. 

“Because…” he sighed. “God, Raven, it isn’t obvious?”

“No, Charles, it’s not,” she said back. “Although if it has something to do with whatever a ‘virtual spouse’ is, I’m all ears.”

Jesus. “What exactly did I say?” Charles asked weakly. 

“Well, you said your name, and then something about how Erik Lehnsherr ‘won you’ and how you are his spouse for the week. It was very titillating.” 

“Please don’t make fun of me,” Charles pleaded, sliding to the floor and pulling the phone cord taut. “Oh, god, I can’t believe they broadcast that.”

“It’s not _that_ big a deal, Charles.” 

“You _know_ why I--” Charles couldn’t finish the sentence, as anxiety clawed its way up his chest. “Nevermind. Maybe they didn’t see it.” 

“Charles.” Raven’s voice was soothing now. “You don’t have to worry about--nobody’s going to hurt you. David and Jean are thrilled. They think you are some kind of celebrity now.”

“And I wanna meet Erik Lehnsherr!” Charles heard David yelling the background.

Charles felt backed into a corner. He wanted to keep Erik separate from his children. He wanted his children to see him as only a normal, boring father who loved them. But he also hated to disappoint his children. “I think Erik may have plans tomorrow,” Charles said to Raven, just as Erik came out of the bathroom wearing only sweatpants, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. He looked at Charles curiously. 

“I have an idea,” Raven said. “Let’s meet at the Exploratorium. It’s like a children’s museum. The kids will love it and it’s pretty fun for adults, too. While the kids are playing you and I can talk more about this, okay?” Raven knew almost as much about him as Gabby had, and Charles thought she probably had some pretty accurate suspicions about him and Erik. He also felt relief - finally, someone he could talk to, someone he trusted. Maybe it would help him get his head sorted out. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he said honestly, and happened to glance at the clock. “Oh, Raven, I’ve got to get going. I still need to shower before I leave for the studio.”

“You do, huh?” she teased. 

“Stop it,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You made plans for tomorrow?” Erik asked, as Charles hurriedly gathered some clothes to change into from his luggage. 

“Yes, you will be spouseless for a few hours, I’m afraid,” Charles said with a quick smile. Erik frowned but the expression disappeared quickly.

Charles’ head popped out of the bathroom one more time. “Oh, and all that..” he waved his hand in the direction of Erik’s chest. “Yes, well, good job,” he said, before shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Erik stood by the bed, feeling confused. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” He asked, just as the water for the shower started. 

**

The engineer at the studio was a very nice young woman with dreadlocks. Despite looking very youthful, she and her assistant (another dreadlocked young woman who looked even younger than the engineer did) handled receiving and transferring phone calls expertly. However, after the first call, Charles wasn’t in a headspace to appreciate that any longer. 

_“Yeah, hi, Professor X? Does having sex with a man make me gay?”_

“Hello Barney,” Charles said warmly. He had no doubt it was a fake name; they usually were. “That’s a very personal decision you should make for yourself. I’m not going to tell you what or who you are. Do you think you’re gay?”

 _“No, but I think _you_ are!”_ The caller said, cackling, before hanging up. 

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” Charles said mildly. "I make it a point that we all get to define ourselves and then he labels me?" He chuckled like it was a joke, but his stomach was clenching. "Next caller. Hello, Jenny from St. Paul, you're on with Professor X. What is your question?"

_"Oh! Hi Professor! Um, I was just wondering if you think Erik Lehnsherr might be bi? I mean--shh, I'm asking him right now!--Do you think he likes girls at all? Could you ask him?"_

"I really don't know," Charles said calmly, although he had a pretty good idea that Erik was not romantically or sexually interested in women. "You know, you could write to _him_ if you wanted to know that. I believe there's an address published for that purpose with his column." That time, he suspected some of his irritation showed in his voice. 

_"Oh, gosh, I couldn't! I mean he's _so_ hot!"_

"Yes, yes, he's very attractive," Charles said distractedly before muting his mic briefly and hissing to the engineer. "Are there any callers who _aren't_ asking about Erik Lehnsherr and/or my sexuality?"

"Anal sex question?" The engineer whispered to him, an anticipatory grimace on her face. 

Charles sighed and bobbled his head. "Fine." The engineer indicated the caller was on the line. "Hello, Peter from Albuquerque. I understand you have a question about anal sex."

_"Uh, oral sex, actually," Peter said. "Can I get AIDS from giving my boyfriend a blow-job?"_

That was a question Charles was more equipped to answer, fortunately. 

At the end of the show, Charles was exhausted. Apparently a lot of teenagers had seen the Entertainment Tonight segment that showed Charles ("Professor X, from the radio show _Love in the Nineties_ " the E.T. anchor helpfully supplied) and Erik together on the red carpet, including Charles' awkward explanation of why he was there with Erik. And because of that, all night the engineer was screening calls from people who had questions for Professor X that essentially boiled down to 1) questions about Erik Lehnsherr and 2) asking Charles if he was gay now. He told himself it was just kids being kids, that this would all pass if he ignored it, but when he got in the cab on the way home Charles realized he was shaking...and he was embarrassed to realize how much he wanted to talk to Erik about it all. This, despite the fact that Erik was sort of the problem.

Charles was so caught up in introspection and anxiety that when he got to the door of the apartment on the 49th floor and saw a sock on the doorknob, the significance of it didn't really register. He blinked at the sock and knocked on the door. He looked at the sock again and frowned. That meant something. He knocked again. 

He realized what it meant at the exact moment that Erik opened the door. Erik's face was flushed and his hair more tousled than Charles had ever seen it. His shirt was completely unbuttoned and his lips were shiny and swollen. He stepped into the hallway, closing the door most of the way behind him. 

"You--you are--" Charles felt himself filling with an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling. "You've been--"

"I'm on a date, Charles," Erik said quietly. "I thought as some who had gone to college for so long that you of all people would understand the significance of a sock on the doorknob?"

Charles stared at Erik, breathing harder by the second. How _dare_ he look so damn sexy, when someone else was in there?

"Socks are for roommates, Erik, not for spouses," he said loudly, pushing his way past Erik inside. He stopped when he saw the extremely muscular man standing by the bed, just buckling his belt. The man glanced at him and picked up what looked like a flannel shirt off the privacy screen.

Charles just stood stock-still, staring at the man. He wanted the man gone. He didn't say anything because he knew he had nothing to say that wouldn't be disingenuous - he wasn't literally Erik's spouse, after all - but it appeared the man was drawing his own conclusions, surreptitiously glancing at Charles as he slid his boots on. "He told me it would be okay," he muttered to Charles in the way out, not quite an apology.

Erik didn't say a word after Charles pushed his way inside. He stood by the door and murmured something to the man as he left. Once the door had shut behind him, Erik turned to Charles, fury in his eyes. 

"Was that really fucking necessary?" he said, his voice controlled but livid, stalking closer to Charles. "You _knew_ what the sock meant. Would it have killed you to have taken a walk for fifteen or twenty minutes?" 

Charles swallowed, trembling with frustration and rage and yes, jealousy, trying to think of what he could say about it because he didn't have any reasonable reason to be upset. "You--that was--that was _rude_ , Erik. It was really rude."

" _I_ was rude?" Erik walked and stood even closer to Charles. "It's rude that I want to get off? How is it rude, Charles? How does it affect you in any way?" Erik smelled like musk, and cologne, and Charles was sure that the other man's scent was part of what he was smelling and a wave of fresh jealousy swept over him. 

"Be--because..." Charles couldn't think of what else he could say, or should say. "Because I had to see it," he finally spit out. 

"If you had acted like an adult when you saw the sock on the doorknob, you wouldn't have had to see anything." Erik was still standing far too close to Charles but Charles could not bring himself to move away. He felt like he couldn't get enough air. He could feel the heat of Erik's bare chest.

"I'm a healthy adult male," Erik continued, seeming slightly less angry, his eyes roving Charles' face and settling on his lips. "I want to fuck. And you've made it clear that I'm not going to get it from you."

His lips were so close. Charles wanted Erik to kiss him, he realized suddenly. Even though he knew those lips had just been on another man. Perhaps because they had just been on another. 

"Am I?" Erik asked, more softly.

Charles had almost forgotten the question. He licked his lips. "No," he said, in a whisper.

Erik leaned back, just slightly, enough for Charles to see the look of disbelief and disgust on Erik's face. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, and stalked over to the bed. 

Charles didn't move for a moment and then he rushed into the bathroom. His stomach was upset and he was confused and sad and angry and jealous and his dick was hard. _This is ridiculous. I'm forty-one years old, I am not going to have a panic attack over a gay crisis,_ he told himself.

Charles sat down on the toilet and tried to clear his mind. He tried to dismiss the worries one by one...the sexual frustration of the last few days, the callers on the radio show, the memory of his step-brother punching him and saying _“faggot, faggot, faggot”_ over and over. Charles said the alphabet backwards, slowly, and then took a few deep breaths. He deliberately thought happy thoughts, things he valued: about how Gabby looked on their wedding day; about Raven, and David and Jean. He knew he had to face Erik still, and he did not emerge from the bathroom until he thought he could do that and be in complete control on his faculties. 

But when he exited the bathroom, all the lights were out. Had Erik left? Had he gone after his date? "Erik?" Charles said hesitantly into the dark room. 

"Here."

The voice came from the bed. So they weren't going to talk about it. Charles felt annoyed for a moment until he realized how tired he really was. He'd had an incredibly stressful day. Talking about it in the morning was probably better, anyway. 

He made his way to 'his' side of the bed in the dark, and got undressed for bed, leaving his T-shirt and boxers on. He climbed under the covers and lay on his side facing away from Erik. He shut his eyes and tried to go to sleep...except that he couldn't, because the bed was moving.

Charles frowned and halted his breathing to listen more carefully. Not only was the bed moving, but Erik’s breathing was harsh and fast. He turned his head slowly towards Erik and in the slightly rust-colored light that reflected off the fog outside through the window, he saw Erik in silhouette, gripping his cock, the sheets pushed down around his thighs, his pectoral muscles and abdominal muscles contracted. His head was thrown back so that his Adam’s apple was the highest point on his body, but as Charles gaped at him he tipped his head forward, his mouth open, seemingly unaware that he was being observed.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Charles said out loud as he belatedly realized just exactly what the fuck Erik was doing. Erik didn't respond and didn’t look at him. 

Suddenly angry, Charles rolled over and up onto his knees and grabbed Erik's right wrist, the wrist of the hand he was jerking off with and pressed it down into the bed with his left hand. Erik was still for a moment, still breathing heavily, looking at Charles but not speaking, before he slowly moved his left hand--either towards Charles or towards his cock, Charles couldn’t tell which, but Charles was not going to let it happen either way. Angrily, Charles used his free right hand to hold Erik's left wrist down against the bed. Unfortunately, this brought Charles' erect cock in contact with Erik's hip. He gasped in mortification and tried to pull his hips away, but Erik moved his left wrist farther out from his body and since Charles refused to release his wrist, he ended up lying half on top of Erik, feeling Erik's bare cock pressing into Charles’ likewise bare abdomen where his shirt had ridden up - and Charles' cock was trapped against the front of Erik's hip, just above his thigh. 

Charles knew he needed to let go of Erik's wrists. His brain was screaming at him to let the man go but Charles' body would not cooperate. Erik was still for a moment before he subtly lifted his right thigh, bringing Charles slightly more on top of him - and making Charles' cock drag against him. "Don't," Charles choked. 

"You're the one holding me down," Erik pointed out hoarsely, his voice a scalding brand in the darkness. Slowly, he angled his hips so that Charles' cock once again rubbed against Erik - and Erik's rubbed against Charles. 

It was surreal. Charles could feel the size of Erik, the wetness at the top that was smearing onto his lower ribs. Erik angled his hips again, moving slowly, making their cocks drag slowly against each others’ bodies. 

It was far from enough, and yet also too much. Charles moaned unhappily. There was no point in denying his arousal to himself or to Erik anymore. He put his head down, trying to think, and realized that his head was resting on Erik's bare chest. He turned his head and his nose dragged against Erik's chest, his lips almost touching. It was hypnotic. He could almost taste Erik. And then he realized if he put his tongue out, just a little, he _could_ taste Erik. Tentatively, Charles touched only tip of his tongue to Erik's hot skin. Erik made a groaning noise and angled his hips again, with more force. It moved Charles up on him. 

He was still holding Erik's wrists. He needed more leverage. He grasped Erik's biceps instead and moved so that he was almost centered on top of Erik. Their cocks were next to each other, Charles' still trapped in his boxers but pressed up against Erik's abdomen. 

His face was level with Erik's neck. The last of his inhibitions left him and Charles rocked his own hips against Erik and nosed along his jaw. The stubble should have felt strange to someone who had never before been so intimate with a man, but it wasn't strange; it was perfect. He touched the tip of his tongue to the stubble and that was perfect, too. He tasted of sweat and musk and sex and Charles couldn't get enough. 

He really couldn't get enough. The world had dwindled down to nothing but Erik. There was barely even Charles, and there was certainly not gossipy television shows or judgemental relatives. There was just Erik's incredible body and Charles wanted all of it, he craved all of Erik, he wanted everything. 

Erik smoothly rolled him over onto his back and started kissing his way down Charles' chest. "No," Charles said. Erik stopped immediately, freezing in position. "Me," Charles said, pushing Erik onto his back. He impatiently took off his own T-shirt and pushed off his boxers, keeping Erik on his back with one hand flat on his chest. Then he straddled Erik and started the kind of exploration he had always fantasized about doing to Erik Lehnsherr. He bit his neck, gently, not enough to hurt, but enough to know what it felt like to bite Erik Lehnsherr. He breathed hotly down Erik's chest to his nipples and licked and tugged at them with his teeth, enjoying the small jerks Erik's body made and how that made their cocks rub against each other. 

"I want to touch you," Erik rasped. He was quiet, compared to Gabby, Charles thought distantly...he didn't moan loudly or make a lot of noise, but hearing how wrecked his voice was made Charles' cock even harder. 

"Yes," Charles said, dragging his face against Erik's ridiculously flat stomach until he felt the top of Erik's cock nudge him under his chin. Erik clutched his shoulders when he felt that. Charles turned his head and lowered his chin until he felt his nose against Erik's cock. He slid closer until his lips touched the side.

"Fuck, Charles," Erik groaned. He was alternatively pressing and rubbing at Charles' shoulders. 

"Touch my hair," Charles said softly and Erik immediately did, stroking and running his fingers through it. Charles returned his attention back to Erik's cock. He opened his lips against the side and ran his tongue along it. 

Erik clutched Charles' hair a little too tight for a moment and Charles winced. "Sorry," Erik gasped, relaxing his grip. 

Charles licked the penis in front of his face some more. This was novel. It was amazing. It was exactly like his fantasies in some ways, but also not...Erik's cock was big, bigger than Charles had envisioned. He moved lower and settled his chest on Erik's thighs so he could get better access. He kept licking, curling his tongue around each side, licking up to the top and pressing the flat of his tongue to the spot that should be very sensitive, if Erik's cock was anything like his own...

Erik let out a string of expletives and let go of Charles in order to grab handfuls of the sheet under his body on either side of it. He moved his head back and forth, all of which Charles watched curiously as he slowly licked the bottom side of Erik's cock. 

"Are you saying no?" Charles asked suddenly, lifting his head slightly when the significance of side-to-side head movement percolated through his awareness. 

"No," Erik gasped and immediately added, "I mean no, I'm not saying no. I mean yes. Lots of yes."

Charles smiled. He licked Erik's cock a few more times, long licks along the sides and bottom, before he finally took the head into his mouth. It was slippery, as there was a not-insignificant amount of pre-come that had gathered there. It was salty. Charles couldn't get enough. He sucked as much of Erik's cock into his mouth as he could and let it drag out against his lips. This was his fantasy; this was the exact thing, and with the exact person, about which Charles had jerked off hundreds of times. He rutted against Erik's thigh, needing friction against his own cock. When he realized getting Erik’s cock entirely engulfed in his mouth was going to be an impossibility, Charles wrapped his right hand around the base of Erik’s cock, the part he couldn’t reach. He gripped it firmly as he repeatedly kept sucking Erik’s cock into his mouth and letting it slide out again.

"Charles," Erik said, breathing heavy. It was a warning. Charles knew what he was saying, but he didn't want to move. He knew what was going to happen and he wanted it; wanted to know the feeling and taste of a man coming into his mouth--

But Erik had reached down and pulled his cock out of Charles' mouth, coming into his own hand, his body convulsing underneath Charles. "Hey," Charles protested mildly. "I wanted that."

Erik had reached down and dragged him up next to him, though, pressing his sweaty forehead against Charles' shoulder as he breathed heavily. He lifted his face then to Charles' and pressed a gentle kiss to Charles' mouth. Charles made a soft noise of surprise as he realized that he hadn’t done this yet. He kissed back, no tongue yet, until Erik moved his wet hand down to grasp Charles' cock and Charles' jaw dropped at the unexpected sensation. Then Erik rolled him onto his back again and this time Charles let him, and Erik licked inside his mouth, finding Charles' tongue and sucking on it as his hand moved slickly and fucking _perfectly_ on Charles cock. 

"Oh, fuck," Charles moaned into Erik’s mouth, kissing Erik more fiercely as he came, too soon, but he couldn't help it, clutching the other man so tightly around the shoulders that there had to be marks. He didn't stop kissing even after he came, lazily exploring Erik's mouth, Erik doing the same to him. 

Finally Charles had to pull away and Erik rolled onto his back, putting an arm around Charles to keep him close. Charles rested his head against Erik's shoulder. "Is it always that--hot?" He whispered to Erik.

Charles felt and heard Erik chuckle a little. Charles thought perhaps that was all the answer he would get until Erik murmured, "No," and kissed the top of Charles' head. 

"So that was alright?" It crossed Charles' mind that he sounded like an insecure teenager, but the curiosity was eating him up. 

"More than alright," Erik said softly. "In fact, it was hard for me to believe you'd never done it before."

Charles smiled and ducked his head a little. "Well, I have thought about it a lot." He hesitated for a moment. "Um...I would have swallowed your come, you know."

Erik was still for a moment before he breathed again. "That's what I gathered." The unspoken question hung in the air and Erik sighed. "It's just a precaution. I get tested every six months."

Charles blinked as the significance of Erik's words sank into Charles' mind. "Oh." Charles hadn't been thinking about safety or diseases or HIV or AIDS at all, he realized. He was worse than the kids he advised every week and his cheeks burned with mortification. "I guess I got carried away."

"No harm done," Erik said, and he sounded like he was almost asleep until he jerked up suddenly. "I'm sorry, let me..." he stood up and strode naked to the bathroom, bringing a warm moist hand towel back with him, which he handed to Charles. Charles gratefully used it to clean himself up and then tossed it in the direction of the bathroom. 

He thought Erik muttered something about him throwing the towel, but he fell asleep before he could process it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild dubcon. Homophobic slurs. General ignorance and prejudices about bisexuality expressed.
> 
> I don't think I will be able to update this tomorrow, y'all! Very sorry. I will aim for Sunday or Monday though!


	5. Exploratorium

Charles didn’t want to wake up. The real world, with it’s awkward interactions and horrible judgemental teenagers was far less preferable than the lovely dream he was having of vacationing in a lake house, wearing nothing and sitting on an equally naked Erik, whose hand was gently rubbing up and down Charles’ back…

Except it actually was Erik’s hand rubbing up and down his back, in reality and the dream world, and Charles decided maybe the real world did have something to offer. 

“Charles,” Erik said softly, his hand stroking down Charles’ back repeatedly. “You have a phone call.”

“What?” Charles mumbled sleepily and frowned. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and realized he was still naked. “Phone call?”

“It’s Raven.” The room was filled with bright sunlight, which, although it was painful on the eyes, was a welcome respite from the relentless foggy mornings that Charles had experienced since he’d been visiting San Francisco.

“Oh.” Charles looked down at himself and glanced over his shoulder at Erik, and immediately looked away because Erik was naked, mostly not under the covers, and his body was long and lean and completely distracting. 

Charles felt self-conscious about his own body next to Erik’s defined, almost feline grace, but he couldn’t begin to remember where the clothes he’d been wearing were. So he shrugged and walked to the phone in the kitchen naked, trying to pretend he didn’t care. 

“Good morning,” he said into the receiver, clearing his throat. He didn’t look at Erik because he wasn’t awake enough to know how he should be acting around the other man right now, and the idea of looking at him while trying to talk to his sister was causing him some cognitive dissonance.

“Charles! Jeez, took you long enough. Hey, we’re about to leave my house. We should get to the city around ten o'clock. You wanted to meet at the Exploratorium, right?”

“Yes,” Charles said, feeling suddenly more awake. He was going to see his kids and his sister today, and some of the anxiety he had been barely keeping a lid on simmered down a bit. “Yes, that sounds wonderful, Raven. I’ll see you there.”

He hung up the phone and turned to face Erik. “Well!” He said with a big smile, glancing at the clock. “It’s about 8 o’clock, so I have two hours before I see my kids. Time enough for breakfast and a shower.”

Erik didn’t say anything for a moment, and just looked at Charles with an inscrutable expression on his face. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Sounds like a plan,” he finally said mildy.

Charles started to walk to the bathroom. He paused just before he got to the door. “Should we - talk - about…?” 

Erik’s face was unreadable. “If you have something you want to say, sure.”

Charles opened his mouth but the rolodex in his mind kept flipping through subjects or topics and discarding them. He wanted to tell Erik about the rude callers during his radio show from the night before, but Erik had already reacted poorly once to Charles’ concern about being perceived as gay. He wanted to ask about the man that Erik had been with last night - how did Erik know him? What had they done before Charles arrived? - but he felt that was on the verge of being none of his business...although perhaps it was, now? Most of all, he found himself wanting to explain about Kurt and Cain, about the constant verbal assault and occasional physical assaults that had made Charles determined to prove them wrong about him, before he was even David’s age. But the thought of sharing something so intimate was terrifying. What if Erik thought it was stupid and weak to be so influenced by what was really just two people that Charles hated?

It _was_ stupid and weak, Charles told himself, closing his mouth. He knew intellectually there was nothing wrong with being gay or bisexual, or at least he had known that since college, but he had let the bullying of his stepbrother and stepfather shame him into hiding what he was. “Have you ever--” Charles stopped, because he didn’t know how to finish the sentence, but he needed to say something, dammit. Erik was started to look concerned at Charles’ continued speechlessness. “Have you ever let a bad experience get in the way of something that you know would make you happy?” 

To his credit, Erik looked more sympathetic than Charles had thought he would. “I can imagine it,” he said, his voice soft. 

Charles looked at Erik for another long moment. “I’m bisexual,” he said, and then went into the bathroom without waiting for a reaction or a response.

Once inside, Charles shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, his heart pounding. He’d said it. Out loud. To another person. Regardless of that fact that that same person had tried to tell him the same thing only 36 hours earlier, it was a new thing for Charles. Charles tried to breathe evenly, but he felt giddy with both panic and a strange euphoria. He almost laughed at the ridiculous feeling. He stayed leaning against the door for a moment until he felt he could function again. He needed to shower. Right. Charles turned on the shower to warm up the water and then heard a knock on the bathroom door. 

“Erik?” He said, his voice higher in pitch than he expected. 

There was silence for a moment before Erik spoke.“You know, there’s a drought. I thought it would be more efficient if we showered together.”

Charles laughed, joy bubbling out of him. He opened the bathroom door. “Your lines are wasted on me, you know,” he told Erik, unable to avoid grinning at the taller man. “All you really need to say to me is ‘hello’.”

“It was a little more work than that,” Erik murmured, "But, 'hello'." He moved closer and pressed a sweet, close-mouthed kiss to Charles’ mouth. Charles let his hands move down Erik’s back and down to his ass, where he squeezed briefly. Erik broke the kiss and leaned back slightly with a smile. 

His eyes roved over Charles’ face for a moment before he spoke. “How do you feel?” he asked, the slightest smile on his mouth. 

Charles smiled bigger; he couldn’t help it. “I feel fantastic,” he said honestly. "That's the first time I said--that, you know." He just grinned up at Erik for a moment before he shook his head. “Shower. I don’t want to forget that.”

“I’ll try not to distract you too much,” Erik joked, running a hand appreciatively over Charles’ hip and thigh as Charles checked the water temperature. 

“You _are_ distracting, though,” Charles murmured, turning to face Erik and running his hands down Erik’s chest. He sighed regretfully and turned back to the shower. “You must travel a lot,” he remarked. “It looks like you live out of your luggage.” Charles nodded to the sink counter where both of their toiletry bags were sitting as he stepped into the combination bathtub and shower.

For some reason, Charles' casual observation made an unpleasant expression cross Erik's face. He sucked his lips in for a moment and looked almost ashamed. Charles couldn't imagine why he would be guilty about travelling a lot, though. It wasn't like he had a pet or anyone at home who would resent his being gone.

“I’d thought you might be upset with me,” Erik said carefully, watching Charles step under the spray and tilt his head back so he could wet his hair. “About last night night.”

Charles blinked water out of his eyes. Charles smiled, just a little. “Which part?” he said coolly, reaching for his soap, which had already been in the shower since the last time he’d showered. “The part where I walked in on you with someone else, or the part where you started jerking off next to me?” The words were even, almost matter-of-fact. Charles didn’t wait for Erik to respond as he began soaping himself, his eyebrows raised as he glanced up at Erik.

Charles, strangely, didn't feel that upset about either transgression. After all, both had led him to hooking up with Erik - and he definitely did not regret that. Still, he felt like acknowledging both was important.

“It was rude,” Erik acknowledged after a moment, his eyes carefully only on Charles’ face. “You were right. I was rude, on both counts. Will you let me make it up to you?” His voice lowered as he stepped closer to Charles and slid his hands down to cup Charles’ soapy ass cheeks.

It was the first time he'd touched Charles' ass and Charles felt his heart rate increasing. Even though he liked the way Erik's hands felt on him, he felt a little paranoid that Erik wanted something from him that he wasn't comfortable with. 

Charles hummed and nuzzled Erik’s neck. “Maybe later,” he murmured. “I’m unfortunately on a schedule right now. Did you want the spray?”

“Um, Sure,” Erik said after a slight pause. "I just want to rinse off, actually." Erik efficiently and quickly rinsed himself under the spray and then stepped out of the shower. 

He moved so quickly that Charles wondered if he'd said something wrong. Erik seemed awfully distant and hard to read that morning. Of course, he probably felt the same uncertainty as to how to act after the night before that Charles did, he thought.   
**

“Well,” Charles said about an hour later, after they had mutually decided that toast and orange juice was a sufficient breakfast (considering the trouble eggs and bacon had given them both the day before), “Sorry I won’t be able to be a proper 'spouse' today, but I hope you have a good day doing whatever it is you do, and I expect I’ll see you this evening.” He almost inquired if Erik planned to have another date, but he decided he’d rather not know. 

Erik was sitting on the loveseat, and he looked at Charles as he spoke. Erik did not have a particularly emotive face, so Charles did a double-take when he thought that Erik looked sad for a moment. Or did he imagine it? He frowned at Erik, puzzled. 

The expression, whatever it had been, disappeared instantly. “What?” Erik asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Ah...nothing. I just...you...didn't want to come with you, did you?"

Erik’s face was blank, too blank. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Charles hesitated. “Do you want to come?” he asked. 

Erik looked unsure. “It’s really up to you.”

“It’s up to me?” Charles said, surprised. He didn’t think that Erik wanted anything to do with children. 

“I assumed that you wouldn’t want your children around me,” Erik said, and the sad look was back on his face, or more specifically, around his eyes. “Considering some of our conversations in recent days.”

Charles was frozen for a moment. He wasn’t ready to come out to his children, he knew. But he also didn’t want Erik to think he was ashamed to be seen with him, not again. Fortunately, it was unlikely there would be paparazzi at a children’s museum. 

Charles took a deep breath and made a decision. “I know you believe everyone should be out about their sexuality, but I'm not ready for my children to know - that - about me. As long as we can agree to avoid that topic, you are more than welcome to join us today.”

Erik stood, unfolding his long legs, still seeming somewhat cautious. “I won't out you. But I don’t keep _my_ orientation a secret from anybody, even children. Just so you are aware.”

“I understand,” Charles said calmly. Both of his children knew Erik Lehnsherr was gay, even though Charles wasn't sure if Jean fully understood what that meant. “I trust you.”

Erik blinked then, and nodded sharply. It seemed an odd reaction and Charles thought perhaps Erik wasn’t used to people trusting him and felt a rush of compassion and warmth for his new friend. 

At least, he thought friend was still the right word. 

**

Outside the Exploratorium, Jean came running up to him first, a red-haired blur nearly tripping in her excitement, before Charles picked her up and swung her around, laughing. “Daddy!” she squealed, hugging him. “Daddy, Raven has a _turtle_! And I got to watch it eat!”

“It’s actually Kurt’s turtle,” Raven said, walking up a little behind Jean, smiling. She turned to Erik and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Raven, Charles’ sister.”

"Erik,” Erik said, shaking her hand. He felt nervous and he hated feeling nervous. He was out of his element. What had possessed him to agree to come?

“Jean, this is Erik,” Charles said with a huge smile on his face and then Erik realized with a funny feeling in his stomach why he had come. 

“Hi,” Jean said shyly. 

"Hi," Erik said back, just as awkwardly.

“She’s only shy for a few minutes or so, usually,” Charles fondly said as Jean abruptly ran to David and Kurt, who were lagging behind. 

“Takes after her father, hmm?” Erik said, smiling at Charles. Charles smiled back for probably a moment longer than was strictly called for, and blinked when he noticed the way Raven was looking at him. 

“Have you been enjoying San Francisco?” She asked Charles, with her arms crossed, and eyebrows raised, a little too knowingly. Charles turned beet red and Raven smirked. 

“Yes, I went to a movie premiere,” Charles said, licking his lips. 

“Oh, I know,” Raven said. She seemed like she was about to say more when a teenage boy ran up just then, a boy with reddish-brown hair and a fringe that he swept out of his eyes every few seconds. He was wearing a Nirvana ‘Nevermind’ T-shirt and ripped blue jeans. 

“Hi,” He said, looking up at Erik with wide eyes. 

“David, this is Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles said, clearly very pleased to introduce them to each other. 

David blinked and belatedly stuck out his hand. Erik shook it. “Hi, David. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s an _honor_ to meet you,” David said, sincerely, and Erik felt like he might actually be blushing a bit, “I read your column every week.”

“Really?” Erik raised his eyebrows and looked at Charles. He wrote his column for adults, while ironically it was Charles’ radio show that was intended for a teenage audience.

“Oh yes,” Charles said. “He keeps me accountable. Lets me know anytime there’s something you disagree with me about.” He winked at Erik. 

“I’d love to have a copy of that list,” Erik said, smiling, to David, who grinned excitedly. 

Charles looked around. “Where’s Kurt?”

David pointed. “Behind Erik.”

Erik turned to see a boy of about 12-years old with Raven’s features but a shock of black hair wave at him and quickly grin before he darted off to where Jean was, closer to the front door of the Exploratorium. 

“He’s impossible to keep track of,” Raven sighed. “I always ask him to stay close, and he always disappears.”

“Have you been here before?” Raven asked Erik. 

Erik shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard good things about it.”

As a general rule, Erik wasn’t a fan of museums per se, but as soon as he walked into the Exploratorium he realized this was not like other museums. Every single ‘exhibit’ was interactive, and he soon found that he and Jean were both immediately drawn to the Electricity and Magnetism area of the museum. After collaborating for a while on exactly what angle the miniature maglev train needed to take the corner at to avoid flying off the track, they both spent quite a while playing with the black magnetic ‘sand’ and the giant plasma ball that made Jean’s hair stand on end. After the second exhibit, Jaen slipped her hand into Erik’s and tugged him over to the Physics of Sound part of the museum; he found he didn’t mind at all. 

David and Kurt, in contrast, ran from exhibit to exhibit as quickly as they could, wanting to see all of them but not interested in spending very long at any of them. Raven and Charles strolled together behind both pairs, parental experience giving them the ability to keep track of their children and chat at the same time. 

“So,” Raven said, looking at Charles out of the corner of her eye and smiling. “Erik seems really nice.”

“Does he?” Charles asked, watching Jean tug Erik by the hand. Since he didn’t look around for Charles, Charles assumed he wasn’t being pressured into anything he didn’t want to do. 

“No, actually,” Raven said. “But he's hot as _hell_! Charles. What is going on? Have you finally gone sausage?”

Charles pursed his lips and shook his head, trying not to encourage her by laughing. “I refuse to dignify that vulgarity with a comment.”

“Oh, get off your high horse,” She said dismissively. “I could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. Is there something going on there? Or are you just giving each other blue balls?”

“Your colorful colloquialisms--” Charles began but stopped when he saw the look on her face. “Raven. You know this is hard for me to talk about.”

She looked immediately contrite. “Well, since we haven’t talked about it since practically high school…”

“Exactly,” Charles said. He swallowed. “But, er, to answer your implied question...yes.”

“Yes…?” She gave him a puzzled look. “Yes, you mean you...did? With Erik? Oh, wow,” She instinctively looked for Erik. 

“Now you’re surprised?” Charles muttered. 

“Well...honestly, I never thought you’d act on it. What with - you know.”

“Yes.” Raven had been the one to call 911 once, after Cain had beaten him. She had been there when he had screamed, _“I’m not a faggot!”_...right before Cain had shoved him down the stairs. He'd broken his arm and hurt his back so badly that he had not been able to walk for weeks after that.

Charles realized his heart was pounding and he was feeling very warm. Raven was talking but he wasn’t hearing her. “Do you have any water?” he interrupted her. 

Raven cut herself off mid-word and looked at her brother with concern. “Charles. Are you alright?”

“I just need some water, maybe to sit down for a minute,” Charles said. This was the worst episode he’d had in a while, though, he had to admit that. He felt a little dizzy and tried not to jump at every sound he heard.

“Um, okay, here’s a seat,” Raven said hastily, seating him at the nearest exhibit with a chair. “The cafe’s just there. I’ll get you water and come back, okay?” Charles nodded. He was feeling so warm that he was sweating, but his heart didn’t seem to be pounding quite so hard. He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on saying the alphabet backwards.

“Charles?” Charles opened his eyes and saw a very concerned Erik kneeling in front of him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Charles took a deep breath. “Panic attack,” he said quietly. “I...used to get them a lot more. I’ll be alright.”

Raven arrived back then. “They didn’t have bottled, but they gave me a cup,” she said breathlessly, handing it to Charles. He sipped it gratefully. 

Erik straightened up slowly, still looking down at Charles with concern. Charles smiled at him wanly. “I really will be fine in a minute,” he said reassuringly. He absent-mindedly held out a hand to Erik before he realized what he was doing. Erik took his hand and squeezed it before quickly letting it go. 

Raven either did not see or pretended not to see that small interaction. “Do you need anything else?” She asked Charles. 

Charles shook his head. “No. Now I’m just embarrassed.” He smiled up at Erik, who smiled back, although he still looked concerned. Charles stood up and Erik put a hand on his back as they walked toward Jean together, who was sitting at what looked like a round piano. 

“Daddy, listen!” Jean exclaimed, while David yelled “Erik!” from across the large room at the same time. Erik surreptitiously brushed his lips across Charles’ temple before he went to go see what David wanted. 

“I just can’t figure this one out,” Jean said, looking down at the round piano with such a earnest and yet wondering tone in her voice that Charles couldn't help but laugh. 

**

“Hey,” David said, as Erik approached him. 

“Did you want to show me something?” Erik said politely. Kurt was nowhere to be seen. 

“Uh, no, not really, um,” David said. He was shifting his weight nervously. “I know this isn’t, like, the best place or anything, but I wanted to talk to you and, like, I feel like I may not get another chance.”

“Okay,” Erik said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, well,” David was really fidgety and was literally wringing his hands. “Um. So. I’m gay.”

Since Erik had figured that out a few seconds before David said it, he nodded. “Okay. Me too." He smiled at David and David flashed him a quick, nervous smile. 

"Uh, yeah. I know." David still seemed anxious, though. 

"Do you have a question for me?” Erik asked, a gentle nudge. Teenagers really weren’t his forte when it came to advice, but he had been one once himself.

“Uh, yeah.” David swallowed. “You’re like, only the third person I’ve told. And I want to tell my Dad. I’ve tried to tell my him but I feel like...he’s not hearing me? I mean, I’ve tried dropping every hint I can, I make it a point of how much I admire you, I don’t how else I can make my point."

“Have you said, ‘Dad, I’m gay’?” Erik asked. 

David nodded miserably. “That was, like, the first thing I tried. He thought it was a joke, or something, I don’t know. It was like a year ago...I think maybe he thought I was too young to know or something but I’ve known for a long time.” David looked up at Erik, frowning. “I think he’s got some kind of issue even though I know he doesn’t hate gay people or anything. And you guys are friends...and I’m sure you wouldn’t be friends if he was homophobic, right?”

“Right,” Erik said, exhaling heavily. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. “I can’t tell him for you, David.”

David swallowed. “But he would believe you.”

“He’ll believe you, if you tell him again," Erik said levelly. "Don't let him laugh it off." 

David flipped his hair out of his eyes. "Maybe this is a dumb question...but...I mean, you don't think he'll be mad, do you?"

Erik hesitated. Considering how Charles seem to be struggling with his own sexuality, and how Erik felt he didn't know the whole story there, Erik didn't feel he could predict with any certainty how Charles would react. "You know I haven't really known your Dad that long," he said slowly. 

"You haven't?" David frowned. "For years he's talked about you like he knows you."

Erik had to smile a little at that. 

"Well, we actually only met in person...recently," Erik said. "So I couldn't say for sure how he will react. I do know he loves you a lot. And even if his response is--" Erik paused to exhale, "--less than ideal, when you first tell him, I promise he _will_ come to terms with it."

David still looked unsure. "David," Erik said softly. "There's nothing wrong with you. You know that, right?"

David nodded but looked distinctly unhappy. "I just wish that I knew someone, anyone--I just don't know anyone who's gay! Professor Monroe works with my Dad, but she's the only person I know, and I barely know her...It just makes me feel really alone."

"You're not alone," Erik said firmly. He deliberated before pulling out his wallet and handing the boy a card. "Here. If you ever need to talk--you can call me."

David looked at the card like he'd just been handed a ticket to freedom. "Really?" he whispered. 

"Of course," Erik said. He almost said 'don't tell your Dad' but thought that might be misinterpreted if he was ever quoted on it. "Let's table this for now," Erik said, smiling, as the rest of the group approached them. 

"Lunch!" Kurt said excitedly. He ran off in the direction of the cafeteria.

**

After lunch the kids still weren't done with the Exploratorium. Charles, Erik and Raven walked together. 

"How's Hank?" Charles asked Raven. "Is his new job worth your having moved across the country and away from me?”

She poked him for the jibe about moving across the country. "He loves the job," Raven said. "I can barely stay awake when he talks about it, but something about designing new software for California's Department of Motor Vehicles really revs his engine." Erik was nearby, on the other side of Charles from Raven, but he seemed content just to listen. 

"Do you talk dirty to him in C++?" Charles joked. 

"You're a nerd," she said, trying not to laugh. 

"You're married to a nerd," Charles reminded her, grinning. 

"Yeah." She looked pretty happy about that for a moment before she sighed and lowered her voice. "You know, Azazel didn't even send Kurt a card for his last birthday."

Charles winced. Kurt's biological father had been an on-again, off-again relationship of Raven's until Raven got pregnant - then she barely saw him anymore. He had only ever reluctantly done anything fatherly for Kurt, and had pretty much disappeared from his life by the time Kurt was five years old, although Kurt usually received birthday and Christmas cards from him, and occasional gifts.

"It's okay, actually," Raven continued. "He and Hank are inseparable when they are together. They are about to wear out our Sega."

Charles smiled. "I suppose after spending the week playing yours, the kids are going to be bugging me to replace our old Nintendo with a Sega when we get home."

"Kurt, get off that," Raven called out abruptly to the her son, who had gotten on top of an exhibit when it was clearly labelled, 'Do Not Climb.'

"And how's his namesake?" Charles asked quietly. His shoulder brushed Erik's and the warmth made him feel braver, somehow.

Raven gave Charles a long look for a moment before responding. "You don't ever ask about my Dad." 

Charles didn't respond, focusing on keeping his breathing normal. "Sometimes you want to know if the monster is hiding under the bed or in the closet." Erik wasn’t looking at Charles, instead watching the children, but his shoulder was still pressed against Charles' and Charles had the feeling that all his attention was focused on him anyway.

Raven’s face changed and she looked like she wanted to hug Charles for a moment. "He's...actually, he's not doing well. He's been in the hospital for weeks. He has advanced Parkinson's and can't really do anything for himself anymore. He can't walk, he can't speak - the doctors are not sure how much cognitive capacity he still has. There's no cure and not much that can be done."

Charles' looked at Raven in surprise. "That's - wow. I had no idea he had Parkinson's."

"Well," Raven said softly, "You don't usually want to hear about him."

Charles was quiet and just watched his children trying to make a whirlpool in a huge cylinder by turning a crank as fast as they could. "So he can't walk or talk?" Charles said, contemplating. 

"Or think, probably," Raven confirmed. She seemed remarkably blasé about the situation, Charles thought, considering it was _her_ father. 

"Have you been to visit him in the hospital?" 

Raven shook her head without looking at Charles. "I don't have anything to say to him."

“On account of me?”

Raven looked at Charles with an almost resigned expression. “On account of him being an asshole.”

Charles gave her a crooked smile. One of the reasons he so rarely asked about Kurt or Cain is that he didn’t want his feelings about them to influence how Raven felt about her own flesh and blood. He knew generally that Raven had issues with them both too, although Charles’ went arguably deeper. 

“And Cain?” Charles asked, feeling bolder for some reason with Erik standing right next to him, silently listening. 

“Oh, you didn’t hear me earlier? He was just sentenced to three years in prison for domestic abuse. He’s been beating his girlfriend.” 

Charles was more shocked than he should have been, knowing Cain. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Raven shook her head. She looked at Erik. “We’re a family of fuck-ups, so be careful.”

“Everyone’s family has fuck-ups,” Erik said calmly. “Even mine.” He looked over at the children. “Anyway, you two should know better than most: blood doesn’t always make family. Oh, shit,” he said immediately, when Jean, about twenty feet away, stepped backwards and almost fell off small ledge she was standing on. Erik raced over but she recovered before got there. He helped her down, regardless, while Raven and Charles watched. 

“Will you look at that,” Raven murmured. “Already protecting your children.” She gave Charles a smirking sideways glance. 

“Raven, we haven’t even talked about...what we are,” Charles said in a low voice, as Erik headed back over to them, holding Jean’s hand. “Can you please be cool?”

Raven gave Charles a disbelieving expression. “I am the _epitome_ of cool, Charles. I’ll prove it: Hey, kids, am I cool?” She raised her voice on the last part. 

“Yeah!” David and Jean shouted while Kurt yelled back, “You’re alright,” with an impish grin. 

She sighed. “And it begins. I probably won’t be cool again to my own son until he’s in his late twenties. At least I still have some street cred with your kids.”

Charles was overcome with love for his sister and he grabbed her and hugged her tightly. “You only look cool in comparison to me because I am such a huge nerd,” he told her, kissing her on the temple. “You’re welcome.”

**

They all went out for pizza after that, and it was amusing to Charles that Jean and David were competing for Erik’s attention the whole evening. Erik managed it well, even if it meant he didn’t have a lot of attention to spare for Charles, but he did make lingering eye contact several times and Erik and Charles traded enough smiles that Raven began to raise her eyebrows every time they did it. 

Charles hugged his kids goodbye after dinner and told them not to have too much fun playing Sega or watching the turtle eat and that he would see them again at home on Saturday. Jean clung to him and wanted to know why he wasn’t coming...he gently explained that Daddy was on vacation too and hoped that she would accept that and was relieved when it seemed she did. He watched them and their cousin Kurt pile into Raven’s car with mixed feelings...on the one hand, he knew that within twenty-four hours he would be missing his children something fierce, and yet the thought of being alone again with Erik definitely had it’s own appeal. 

Erik had been so unexpectedly kind and engaged with David and Jean that it made Charles realize his crush on him had crossed the line into...something else. He knew it was precipitous to say love, but it felt a lot like that; warm, and powerful, but tender at the same time. And it made him want to touch Erik. A lot.

They took a cab back to the apartment and it was all Charles could not to touch Erik in the car. They were barely inside the door of the apartment before Erik turned and pressed Charles against the wall for a hot, filthy kiss that made Charles’ toes curl. 

“I want you,” Charles gasped, when his mouth was freed momentarily. 

Erik hummed, pressing light kisses and nips into Charles’ neck. “How do you want me?”

“Any way except... _that_ way,” Charles groaned, stroking both hands down Erik’s gloriously shaped and muscled back and around to his front.

Erik was still kissing Charles’ neck but Charles’ words definitely distracted him. “ _That_ way?”

Charles wasn’t sure if Erik was teasing or serious. “You know what I mean,” he said breathlessly, running his fingers through Erik’s hair, and tipping his head to the side to encourage Erik’s interest in his neck. “What I said at the panel.”

Erik pulled back a little as Charles peeled his own shirt off. He looked Charles in the eye, considering. “I don’t want you to think I want you to do anything you are not completely comfortable with, Charles.”

Charles felt something inside him melt a little at the seriousness with which Erik spoke. He smiled ruefully and stroked Erik’s face. “That is...extremely sweet of you, but honestly I have yet to be comfortable with any of this.”

Erik smiled wide and kissed Charles again while his smile was still fading, a lingering kiss, with just a hint of tongue. “I’ll go easy on you,” he whispered hotly into Charles’ neck. “Tell me if I go too far, or too fast. Or maybe…” He leaned back and gave Charles a thoughtful look, which was disrupted momentarily by Charles removing Erik’s shirt. “Maybe we should have a safeword?”

“Like for S&M?” Charles said, startled and a little alarmed.

“Oh, you know about that,” Erik teased, a grin on his lips. He tugged Charles by the hand over to the bed and fell back on it, pulling Charles down with him. 

Charles managed to land next to Erik and not on him. “I know enough. I am a professional sex consultant, you know.”

“I thought you were a relationship consultant,” Erik murmured, pushing Charles on his back so Erik could touch and kiss the small belly he’d been coveting for days right above Charles’ waistline. He unbuttoned Charles’ pants. 

“Well, I suppose, but…” Charles was toeing his shoes off and stroking his hand through Erik’s hair. “I forgot what we were talking about,” he confessed with a huffed laugh as Erik unzipped his pants and put his hand against Charles’ erect, underwear-covered cock. 

Erik peeled the waistline of Charles’ boxers back just enough to reveal the reddened head of his cock, already smeared with pre-come. “We were talking about me wanting you to be comfortable,” Erik whispered. “I want to lick you here, are you comfortable with that?” He made eye contact with Charles and telegraphed exactly where he wanted to put his tongue, right on the exposed frenulum, as he slowly dipped his head towards that. 

“Wait,” Charles said weakly, even though he didn’t want to stop Erik. Erik stopped, holding still, his head poised above Charles’ cock. 

Charles swallowed and closed his eyes, tried to focus on what alarm bell exactly was going off in his head. “That’s - fluid. Body fluid. I don’t--I mean, last night we didn’t--discuss. Safety. You said ‘no harm done’, but…”

Erik folded the waistline of Charles’ boxers back into place so they covered up the head of Charles’ cock again. Charles made a small dissatisfied sound, deep in his throat, and Erik kissed his belly. “Sorry, sweetheart, it’s too distracting for me to see that if you want to talk. But you’re right, we should talk.”

Erik cleared his throat a bit and continued. “My last HIV test was four months ago; it was negative. I also tested negative for all other STDs at that time. I have used condoms for penetrative sex since my last test." Erik’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact as he gave Charles an expectant look.

Charles could barely find his voice for a moment. “I don’t--I don’t think I’ve ever been tested,” he said slowly. “I mean, I haven’t done--had sex--not since Gabby died. And she was my only sex partner since college.”

Erik nodded. If he was surprised at all, it didn’t show in his face. “In light of this information, I would feel comfortable performing oral sex on you without a condom,” he said carefully. “If you are comfortable with that.”

Charles considered. He always advised his teenage callers not to take _any_ risks, but what Erik was saying made sense--he hoped he didn't just think that because arousal was clouding his logical faculties. He kissed Erik, a deep, lingering kiss. “Yes, please,” he whispered after. 

Erik was only too happy to move himself back down the bed. He pushed Charles’ boxers down and under Charles’ genitals so everything was exposed and available for him to play with. He nuzzled at the shaft, which he was pleased to see was still quite erect, and licked at Charles’ balls. 

“Jesus fuck,” Charles whispered hoarsely, one hand gripping the sheets and one entangled in Erik’s hair, which was just long enough to grip. Erik sucked a testicle into his mouth and rolled it around on his tongue just to hear what ever other creative expletives Charles would come up with, and he wasn’t disappointed. Eventually he licked up the shaft and sucked Charles’ entire cock into his mouth in one easy slurp. It pushed the back of his throat, but Erik was experienced and he angled his head so it wouldn’t choke him as he undulated the inside of his mouth around Charles’ cock. 

Charles was still swearing when Erik pulled off. Erik grinned. “Can I get rid of these?” he asked, tugging on the waist of the boxers and the jeans that Charles was still mostly wearing. Charles immediately shimmied out of them. 

Erik rewarded him by sucking the head of Charles’ cock into his mouth and rubbing his tongue repeatedly against the sensitive underside of the head. “So you don’t like being penetrated at all, by anything?” Erik asked innocently, amidst his oral ministrations. 

“I can’t - what?” Charles asked dazedly, his eyes unfocused. 

“Did your wife - or anyone - ever put a finger up your ass?” Erik said calmly. “Or a toy?” He lifted his head to meet Charles’ eyes. 

Charles blinked at him. “Are you trying to--I told you I don’t want to have anal sex,” he managed. 

Erik shrugged, kissing his belly again. “I was just talking about fingers. And I won’t do anything unless you want me to.” He sucked Charles’ cock into his mouth again, but Erik could feel that Charles was distracted, less focused on the sensation. 

“Erik,” Charles said, breathing hard. “Is that - do you want to do that? To me?”

Erikw slowly pulled his mouth off Charles’ penis. “In my experience, sucking cock combined with prostate stimulation can lead to a pretty mind-blowing orgasm.”

“Well, my mind is already pretty well-blown,” Charles said in such a matter-of-fact voice that Erik laughed. “But, um...it doesn’t hurt? Does it?”

“One finger, even two, should not cause you any pain,” Erik said sincerely. “I’ll go slowly and use a lot of lube, okay?” 

Charles nodded and Erik quickly retrieved what he needed from his bathroom toiletry bag - a small packet of lube and a latex glove. When he got back to the bed, Charles was biting his lip. “You okay?” Erik asked gently, putting down his supplies net to Charles and kissing him on the mouth. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Charles admitted. “But I do want to.” 

“Good,” Erik said, pressing a kiss to the front of Charles’ shoulder. He moved down and settled himself between Charles’ legs, kissing Charles’ inner thighs. He put the glove on quickly - he’d had practice - and smeared his fingers with lube. Charles seemed a little nervous, so Erik moved up so that could lick and suck Charles’ cock while he sought out the tiny sphincter with his fingers. 

Charles jerked a bit and Erik pulled his mouth off his cock. “You okay?” he asked. 

“Yes, I just…” Charles exhaled. “Obviously I’m nervous, and it’s strange to feel so...I don’t know, virginal. Because I’m not.”

Erik tried to put himself in Charles position, mentally. “I can understand that.”

“So just--do it. You don’t have to be so careful.”

Erik raised his eyebrows at Charles. “Just do it? Just push in?”

“Yes,” Charles whispered. He licked his lips. “Please.”

Despite what Charles said, Erik had no intention of pushing in fast and hard. However....

He pushed Charles’ legs open and up, abruptly, with some forces but not enough to hurt. Charles inhaled sharply but his cock jumped. Erik put the pad of his finger against Charles’ opening and rubbed tiny circles as he grasped Charles’ cock with his other hand. 

“I’m going to finger-fuck your ass now,” he whispered to Charles’ hip, and he felt blunt fingers clutching his shoulder. 

“Yes,” Charles said, breathing hard.

Erik pushed the tip of his gloved finger in and it slid in easily, as he had expected. Erik had long and narrow fingers; they were actually perfect for internal prostate stimulation, and he wasn’t someone to overlook his advantages. 

“Unnnggg,” Charles moaned. “Fuck. Yes.”

Erik returned his mouth to Charles’ cock and started slowly fucking Charles’ ass with his finger while he sucked his cock. Charles was noisily appreciative, and there was nothing Erik liked better than a noisy lover. Pretty soon, the noises Charles were making began to take on the form of a specific word, though: “More,” he said, and Erik realized he had said it a few times already. 

“More what, sweetheart?” Erik whispered, pulling his mouth off Charles’ cock and turning his head to wipe his mouth on his shoulder. 

“More--fingers,” Charles not-quite-whispered. 

“I can do that,” Erik murmured, pulling his index finger out and re-inserting it with his middle finger (which he had already slicked earlier). Charles’ low groan was even louder. Erik fucked Charles’s ass like that for a while until Charles’ body seemed relaxed enough that Erik could angle his fingers and search for his prostate. He knew when he found it because Charles said, “Oh god oh god oh god,” and started keening. Erik put his mouth back on Charles’ cock and sucked that while he kept stroking Charles’ prostate until Charles’ breathing changed and he said “Erik--” 

Erik replaced his mouth on Charles’ cock with his left hand and stroked Charles through his orgasm, gently rubbing his prostate inside him the whole time. Charles keened while he came, his entire body tense and perspiring. 

“Gah--gla--Jesus,” Charles gasped, the closest sounds to language he’d been able to make in a while. Erik withdrew his fingers carefully and allowed himself to be tugged upwards on the bed. Charles kissed Erik’s mouth, his cheek and his neck repeatedly, mumbling “I had no idea,” as he did so. 

Erik started to get up and get Charles a towel but Charles make an unhappy noise, holding Erik’s shoulders down on the bed by his shoulders and kissing his neck. Erik chuckled and peeled the glove off, stroking Charles’ arm with his clean hand (the one that had been in the glove). 

Finally Charles rolled onto his back, sighing happily, and Erik got up to wash his hands and get a towel for Charles. 

“I’m surprised you don’t keep towels closer to the bed,” Charles said drowsily, watching Erik through half-lidded eyes as he lay down next to Charles on the bed, propping his head up with his elbow. At the look on Erik’s face, Charles’ smile faded. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Erik said, brushing a lock of Charles hair back. 

“I didn’t mean to imply that you are promiscuous,” Charles continued.

Erik laughed. “It’s okay. I am.”

Charles took a long look at Erik, just soaking up his beauty. Even the man’s flaws added to his attractiveness. “How many people have you had sex with?” Charles asked curiously.

Erik grinned and shook his head, placing a gentle kiss on Charles’ lips. “You don’t want to talk about that.”

“It’s fine, anyway,” Charles said, his eyelids feeling very heavy. He wasn’t really sure what he was saying. “I mean, anything you say would be fine. I’m just…” he couldn’t think of the word and found himself trailing off and abruptly jerked awake. 

“Oh, shit, I’m falling asleep, and you haven’t even...” Charles reached in the direction of Erik’s pants, but Erik caught and kissed his hand. 

“It’s fine,” Erik murmured, running a hand through Charles’ hair and messing it up. He liked the way it looked like that. He moved closer and kissed Charles on the cheek. “I actually need to make a phone call.”

Charles’s eyes were closed and he made a little humming sound that could have meant anything. Erik rolled off the bed and walked the kitchen phone.

**

Charles felt sleepiness hit him so hard it was almost like he’d been drugged. Erik had said something about a phone call and Charles felt a mild curiosity about who he was calling and why, but he couldn’t hear much of the conversation except for gentle murmurs from Erik. It sounded like he was talking to a child, or a lover, which made Charles feel mildly puzzled. The curiosity tugged him awake enough to hear the last few words of Erik’s conversation, as soft-spoken as they were: “Me too. I know, I will. Ok. And I said, me too.” And then he chuckled lightly and put the phone in its cradle. 

He came around the privacy screen and got in bed next to Charles, tugging the covers up over them. Charles immediately snuggled up against him, his back to Erik’s front. Erik stroked Charles’ hair and pressed occasional kisses to the side of his head and made Charles forget that there was anything to find puzzling about Erik's behavior as he fell asleep.


	6. Haight Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning at end (DO check if you think you might be triggered - minimal spoilers)

Erik woke up before Charles, despite the fact that he’d also fallen asleep before the other man. His conscience was weighing on him and it wasn't letting him sleep.

Charles’ face was relaxed and beautiful in the grayish morning glow that washed over the room - it was another foggy morning, apparently. A tiny frown crossed Charles’ features when Erik pulled away from him to sit on the side of the bed, but then Charles turned to face away from the light and Erik couldn’t see his face anymore. 

This all hadn’t seemed quite so dishonest, four days earlier. He hadn’t felt like there was such a risk that he was going to destroy a man’s self-identity or affect his family by inviting him to share a small apartment and a large bed for a week. But the more Charles kept praising Erik for his honesty, and telling Erik that he trusted him, and asking innocent questions about the layout and location of things in his ‘home’, the more Erik felt himself sinking into an abyss of guilt that was harder and harder to hide. 

And after talking to David yesterday, Erik was keeping yet another secret from Charles. 

Erik got up slowly and walked around the privacy screen to sit in the loveseat and put his face in his hands. Charles having a panic attack yesterday at the museum had been like a bucket of cold water on Erik; that combined with what he heard Charles and Raven saying about Raven's father and brother made Erik realize that Charles had been through some kind of trauma, and that there was probably more to Charles’ being closeted than just prejudice. Therefore, Erik seducing him and then sending him home to New York probably wasn’t doing Charles any favors.

Erik told himself that Charles was an adult, and that Erik hadn’t forced him into anything. He knew that was true, and yet, he still felt culpable for what he anticipated the weekend would bring, because it was all going to be over in two days. Erik had mixed feelings about that. He enjoyed Charles’ company; enjoyed his curiosity and enthusiasm for sex; Erik even enjoyed his affection, even though Erik didn’t usually think of himself as cuddly. But Charles had a family, a really wonderful family, and he and his family deserved someone who could be more to him than Erik could be. So the two of them had an expiration date. 

He should put a stop to it all today, Erik thought. It would hurt, but it would probably be less painful for both of them in the long run. 

He felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck just then. “Is everything alright?” Charles asked softly. 

“Yes, yes, I…” Erik leaned his head into Charles’ touch without even meaning to. He couldn’t think of anything that would believably explain his melancholy, and finally he said, lamely, “I’m just thinking about today. I have…” he tried desperately to remember for a moment. “I have a meet & greet and then a book-signing at a headshop on Haight street.”

Charles ran his fingers through Erik’s hair. “And you’re dreading it?”

“Well, not really. Sometimes people ask rude questions, but…” Erik swallowed. He was so tired of lying that he didn’t stop his tongue when a small truth slipped out. “I’m not looking forward to you leaving in two days.”

Charles’ hand paused, briefly, and then the man moved around to Erik’s front to kneel in front of him, between his legs, unabashedly naked. “Well, I’m here now,” Charles said softly, a smile on his lips. “And as I recall, I owe someone an orgasm.” He ran his hands up Erik’s thighs toward his hips and looked at him with supplicating blue eyes. “If someone is so inclined.” 

Erik’s cock immediately took an interest and Erik just looked at Charles for a moment and thought how perfectly beautiful he was, and how he seemed to carry himself like he had no idea of how attractive he was. Charles licked his lips and raised his eyebrows a little, looking at Erik expectantly.

"You don't have to," Erik said, hearing how rough his own voice sounded. "I don't want you to feel like you have to just because--for any reason."

Charles' face became more serious. "I want to," he said, so sincerely that Erik's chest hurt, still stroking his hands over Erik's thighs. "I really want to."

Erik was incapable of turning him down, regardless of the thoughts he'd been having the moment before Charles touched his neck. Erik nodded and moved his hips forward on the couch, watching Charles through darkened eyes as the other man bent his head down and licked at his penis until it was fully erect and then proceeded to give Erik a surprisingly good blow-job, considering his lack of experience. He pulled his mouth off just in time to avoid swallowing and Erik came all over his own stomach. 

“You are better at that than you have any right to be,” Erik said, after Charles had brought him a towel and then straddled him to claim a kiss. 

“Really?” Charles’ whole face lit up. “That’s so good to hear! I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Actually, you. I spent a lot of time thinking about going down on you.”

Erik felt like he’d known that, or suspected it at least, on some level. It was still humbling, for such a truly wonderful man to feel that way about Erik; a man who was funny and intelligent and slightly nerdy and sexy as hell. Erik had no words for what the feeling filling him was but he knew it made him want to kiss Charles immediately and as thoroughly as he could. So he did.

Immediately behind the good feeling was guilt about lying to Charles, sadness about his impending departure, and anxiety of what Charles would think of Erik if he ever found out. But Erik deliberately pushed those feelings down. He didn’t want to spoil what time they had left with negative thoughts. 

They were still kissing, unhurried explorative kisses, when the phone rang a few minutes later. They both looked at it, startled, and Erik said hastily, “I’d better get that.” Charles let him up and Erik answered the phone. 

“It’s Raven,” Erik told Charles a moment later. He kissed Charles on the cheek as he passed him the phone. “I’m going to shower.”

Charles took the phone. “Hi Raven! Did I leave something in your car?”

“Hey Charles. Uh, no. No, you didn’t. Ah--I just called to see how it’s going?”

Charles frowned. He knew Raven too well. “Raven. It’s going fine. What is it?"

She hesitated before responding. “It’s--probably nothing. It’s really...I probably shouldn’t have called.”

Something suddenly occurred to Charles. “Hey, how did you get this number anyway? I didn’t give it to you. I don't even know what it is.” He had been too asleep to realize that the previous morning when they'd spoken. 

“Oh, we got Caller ID, didn’t I tell you? So I can tell the number you called me from. Pretty cool."

“Stalker,” Charles teased. 

“Yeah, well...um." Raven coughed nervously. "Did you know that Erik gave David a card? Like, a business card? Except it looks like personal contact information, not business.”

“Uh, well, no, actually,” Charles said, frowning. “But--wait. Why is that a big deal?”

“I didn’t say it was a big deal, I just didn’t know if you knew,” Raven said. To Charles she seemed both cautious and defensive. 

“Well, I didn’t know, but I don’t think it’s anything that I need to worry about,” Charles said. “David is a huge fan of Erik’s.”

“I know, but…I’m a cynic, Charles. Should I--let him keep it?”

“Of course you should,” Charles said. Charles had a guess about why David had Erik’s card, but the fact that Erik hadn’t said anything to Charles about it did seem a little odd. 

“You know, it may not be his personal card after all,” Raven said thoughtfully. “He lives in San Francisco, right? This has a Daly City address. Although the phone number is labelled as ‘home’.”

“Where’s Daly City?” Charles asked. The shower had started and Erik was singing. It was too cute. Charles wished he had a way to record him. 

“It’s a small suburb south of San Francisco proper. Maybe it’s an office? Or his agent’s office?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charles said, starting to feel annoyed. “If you are meaning to imply that Erik is--inappropriately interested in David, that’s a baseless claim and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Raven said in a conciliatory tone. “I _like_ Erik. I’m not trying to accuse him of anything. Honestly, this card thing just made me a little nervous and I wanted you to reassure me that you know all about it and it’s nothing.”

Charles sighed. “I didn’t know, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to Erik about it when he gets out of the shower.”

Raven was quiet a moment. “You always see the best in people,” she said. “I want you to be right, for once.”

“I’ve been right a couple times,” Charles reminded her, feeling his annoyance drain away. “You. Gabby.”

“Yeah, okay,” Raven said, relenting. He could hear the smile in her voice. “So anyway. What are you doing today?” 

Charles tried to remember Erik’s words. “I’m going to with Erik to a meet and greet and book signing at a headshop on Haight street.”

Raven was quiet before she let loose a bark of laughter. Charles didn’t understand what was so funny, but all she would say is, “Have fun."

Erik got out of the shower just as Charles was getting off the phone. “How’s Raven?” He asked, completely naked, towelling off his hair. 

“She’s...well, she’s fine. Hey. Did you give David a card?” 

Erik stopped rubbing his hair for a moment and looked at Charles from under the towel. “Yes?...Should I not have done that?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just...Raven thought…” Charles trailed off because Raven hadn’t actually put voice to any of her concerns, and Charles was loathe to put them into words.

Erik walked over to Charles, his eyes large and sincere. “No. No, I’m not--David’s a child, Charles, I would _never_ \--”

“Oh, no,” Charles said immediately. “I didn’t think you would. Honestly. I’ll bet that he asked you for it.”

“He asked for a way to contact me, yes,” Erik said. His eyes were fixed on Charles’ face. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Charles said. “David’s been...questioning himself, who he is, for a while now. And I know how much he looks up to you. I just hope he doesn’t bother you too much.” Charles smiled at Erik. “I shouldn’t probably tell Raven that, too, so she doesn’t worry, except it feels a little like violating David’s confidence.”

The look on Erik’s face was hard to read. “I should have told you,” he said. “That I gave him my card, I mean. I’m sorry. I’m not used to dealing with--children.”

“It’s fine, really,” Charles said, smiling and stepping close enough to kiss Erik and coincidentally touch his marvellous body. “I honestly wasn’t concerned. I trust you.”

It was good that Charles was looking down at Erik’s torso and didn’t see Erik’s face in that moment, because it was the same expression he would have worn if he’d bitten into a lemon.

**

Charles hadn't known exactly what to expect from the venue from the term 'headshop' but he had thought the place would have more to do with giving or receiving oral sex than it would with drugs. There were glass cases and counters filled with drug paraphernalia like pipes and bongs and several signs that said, "Products are for tobacco use only."

In the back of the shop, there was a space where there were several dozen chairs set-up and a pseudo-stage, and this was where Erik was doing his meet-and-greet. His agent Emma Frost met them there, giving Charles a nod in greeting with a cool appraising look. She introduced Erik and he read a passage from his book, _Taking Back Our Future._

Charles was sitting in the audience, half-listening and trying to blend in, although most people there had seen him arrive with Erik and there had been quite a bit of whispering at that time. Charles felt eyes on him the whole time Erik was speaking...although those eyes would slide away when Charles turned towards them. Charles excused himself to use the restroom shortly after Erik started taking questions. 

He was headed back when a young man stopped him. He had orange hair that he wore in dreadlocks, and that feature so captivated Charles' attention that he didn't notice much else about the man. 

"Professor X," the man said, with a conspiratorial smile. 

Charles turned to him in surprise. He was rarely recognized by his face, which was not unusual considering that he worked primarily in radio. The man was holding an open magazine up to him and smiling. "Man, I knew it was you!"

Charles smiled back, not knowing what to say. He looked at the picture on the page of the magazine and his smile disappeared instantly. It was a picture of himself and Erik taken at the Golden Gate Park bus stop, with Charles' hand on Erik's chest. The picture was in profile, and he and Erik both had intense looks on their faces. There was some text by the picture - Charles skimmed it enough to see his name followed by the name of his radio persona, Professor X, along with "renowned author and activist, Erik Lehnsherr." But the most eye-catching text was the block letters at the top, which proclaimed _"LOVER'S QUARREL?"_

The orange-haired man looked at him in sympathy. "These kinds of pictures are taken out of context all the time, you know. They're just trying to stir up trouble by saying you were fighting."

"We _were_ fighting," Charles said distractedly. He grabbed the magazine and flipped to the cover. "What is this? What's the name of this magazine?" He could see for himself that the name was Pride of The Bay. So it was probably just a local publication, he thought, with some relief.

"You must get tired of the paparazzi," the man said sympathetically. "Well, I don't want to bug you any more, I just wanted to see if you were who I thought you were." The man smiled at Charles again before leaning a little bit closer and saying in a stage whisper, "and be careful with Lehnsherr. He's got a reputation as a real heartbreaker."

Charles looked at the man with his blankest expression and headed back towards his seat. Erik appeared to be mid-way through answering a question about the new military policy enacted the year before, "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." 

"--and frankly, Clinton is not going to get my political support any longer, because this is a total cop-out," Erik was saying vehemently. "It's not a 'compromise.' It's poorly written policy and it's going to bite gay soldiers in the ass before the end of a decade." Erik was leaning forward, jaw clenched as he spoke. He deliberately took a deep breath and leaned back before continuing, "and not in the fun way." He eyes shot to Charles for a moment, acknowledging his return. "There's quite a bit more about my opinion of Don't Ask, Don't Tell in my book," he added with a somewhat tight smile. 

"Mr. Lehnsherr, do you address the issue of marriage equality in _Taking Back Our Future_?" An older woman with graying hair asked the question from her seat.

Erik considered before replying. "Tangentially," he said. "As many of the readers of my column know, it's not really an issue that's near and dear to my heart." He smiled and the crowd tittered and murmured acknowledgement. 

"Are you currently in a relationship?" It was the same asker as the previous question and Charles tried not to react while at the same time he felt nearly the entire room looking at him. 

"No," Erik said without hesitation and without looking at Charles. "I am single, as I am every time I am asked that question."

"But I thought--" the woman frowned and glanced at Charles. She would have continued, except that Emma interrupted her by standing up. 

"When we get to the personal questions, I know it's time to move along," Emma said with a condescending smile at the questioner. "Mr. Lehnsherr will be available to sign books for the next thirty minutes, though."

Charles went to stand outside the front of the store while Erik signed books. He wished he had a way to be invisible, or that he had worn a hat or sunglasses or something to make himself feel less conspicuous. The thought that people were thinking of him as Erik Lehnsherr's boyfriend was bad enough, but to receive the sympathy of strangers over the inevitable future break-up was even worse. 

To distract himself, he sat down on the curb and watched the people on the street. It was like a pocket of 1969, he thought, smelling patchouli oil and seeing colorful people wearing everything from motorcycle leathers to tie-dye sundresses walking around, including lots of ripped denim. Across the street from Charles and a little ways down the block were several people sitting on steps that led to a rainbow-painted front door, openly passing a joint between them. He saw both men kissing men and women kissing women before Erik finally came outside a little more than thirty minutes later.

"There you are," said Erik. His brow was furrowed. "Is everything okay? I thought I'd lost you." 

"Oh, I'm fine," Charles said, stretching the truth a bit, as he stood up. "Just out here absorbing some of the San Francisco culture."

Emma emerged from the shop a moment later. "Sugar, I can't do lunch today," she said to Erik distractedly. "Brunch tomorrow okay?"

"Sure," Erik said. She kissed him on both cheeks and then left, waving to Charles and leaving a faint smell of White Diamonds perfume behind her. 

"Well," Erik said, looking at Charles with a soft smile, "We have the rest of the day free. What would you like to do?"

Charles wanted to enjoy Erik in every way he could without feeling like the sword of Damocles was hanging over them. He wanted to forget. He licked his lips. "Is it too early to get a drink?"

Erik raised his eyebrows. "That depends. Are you going to get so drunk that I will feel guilty kissing you?"

"So you plan on kissing me?" Charles asked, coquettishly.

"Well, sometime in the next twenty-four hours, yes," Erik said, smiling still, his eyes roving Charles' face. "Assuming you are not too drunk."

"I'm not drunk right now," Charles said in a low voice, licking his lips a little more deliberately. 

Erik's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced significantly around them. "Charles?"

_Everyone already thinks we're sleeping together, and they're right,_ Charles thought. _I've seen three same-sex couples kissing on this street today. Kurt and Cain are both incapacitated. What am I afraid of?_

Charles stepped closer to Erik and kissed him on on the mouth, on the street, in San Francisco. He was thinking as he did it that it was the most liberating and exhilarating experience of his life. 

Until something hard hit the back of his head. 

"Fuckin' _queers!_ " he heard someone say. Charles felt the tension thrumming through Erik's body and Charles snapped his eyes open to see Erik's eyes fixed on something over his head. Charles turned and saw three men who looked like they were straight out of the movie Deliverance. Two of the men were quite overweight, with skin so pale and pasty it looked almost green. They looked similar enough to each other that they were probably related and were wearing matching uneasy expressions. The man standing in front of the trio, however, was thin with an incongruously large potbelly and a belligerent look on his face. He was wearing a white tank top with the Confederate flag on it and his hair was a greasy mullet covered by a baseball hat. In his left hand dangled a six-pack of Coors beer with three cans missing. The nose above his too-large mustache was crinkled in disgust as he looked at Charles and Erik. 

Charles looked down and saw that what had hit him in the back of the head was a crumpled Coors beer can. Charles lifted his head to stare at the men and they stared right back. He could feel Erik behind him, wound tight. 

When nobody did or said anything for a moment, the man in the front came closer. "Yer an abomination," he sneered at Charles. He reeked of beer and cigarette smoke. "I fuckin' hate having to see all these fucking _faggots_ every--"

He didn't get to finish the word, because Charles had slugged him in the face with his right hand and immediately in the solar plexus with his left. The man went down like a sack of potatoes, gasping for breath and holding his jaw, looking up at Charles in shock. 

Charles bent down and grabbed his chin. "I. Don't. Like. That. Word," he hissed. His arm was tugged back and Charles allowed himself to be pulled, but he didn't look back at Erik, keeping his eye on the man on the ground. The man scrambled back, looking at Charles in utter confusion, like getting punched was the last thing he had expected. 

"We--we--don't want any trouble, okay?" One of the pasty men in back held his hands up placatingly. He seemed to be looking at something behind Charles. Charles turned to see a handful of intense, angry people facing the redneck trio, including several people who had attended Erik’s meet and greet. The person who had pulled Charles off the skinny homophobe was not Erik at all, but was actually the orange-haired man Charles had spoken to inside. Erik, to Charles’ surprise, was at the back of the crowd where a man was holding his arm and speaking to him intensely--the man looked like Steve Rogers, Erik’s old army captain. Erik was looking in the direction of the rednecks with a murderous expression. Charles frowned and was about to go after them, when yelling behind him made him turn around and face the rednecks again.

"I was fuckin' assaulted!" The skinny man yelled. He was about fifty feet away, now, and appeared to be talking to a police officer. They both came closer to Charles. Charles stood tall as the man approached. "He punched me when I didn't even _touch_ him!"

The officer looked at Charles and Charles did a double-take. He knew that man. How did he know that man? "You know, I did see the whole thing happen," The cop said casually to the redneck. "And you really had it comin'." 

The homophobe opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it as he looked around him and saw the crowd. One of the large men behind him tugged on his arm. "Gary, let's just go."

The men started to walk away, while Gary grumbled and muttered under his breath the whole time. "If that's your truck illegally parked at the bottom of the hill - the one with the confederate flag bumper sticker - you might want to hurry," The cop called out. "I called a tow truck."

Once Charles saw the men walking away, he turned and pushed through the crowd to Erik, but he had disappeared. There was a small alley immediately to the left and he saw Erik and Steve at the end of it, about fifty feet away. He ran down the alley, stopping when he got to them. "Why did you go? Are you alright?"

Erik looked at him with an expression full of so much pain that Charles’ voice stopped in his throat. "I'm sorry, Charles. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Charles said, frowning. "My knuckles are sore. But I'm fine. Why did you leave? And what are _you_ doing here?" The last question was directed to Steve. Charles couldn't deny that he felt a little hurt that Erik had apparently taken off right when Charles could have most used someone to back him up, and Steve's presence didn't make any sense.

Erik just looked at Charles in anguish. "He had to leave," Steve said quietly. "Or it would have been--very bad."

Charles looked between Steve and Erik. "Erik, what is he talking about?”

Erik closed his eyes and grimaced as if he were in pain. "I'm fine now," he said quietly to Steve. "You can go."

Steve stepped back but did not leave until Erik's face had returned to normal and he slumped against the brick wall behind him. 

"Okay." Steve gave Charles a courteous nod and started to walk away. "See you around, Lehnsherr."

Charles didn't wait for Steve to leave the alley before he was pulling Erik into his arms. Erik clung to him, not speaking, his breathing slowly evening out and his body slowly relaxing against Charles.

"Erik - what did he mean by that?" Charles whispered. 

He felt Erik stiffen, looking at something over Charles' shoulder, and Charles stiffened too. They were in an alley now, far from the people on Haight street who had stood up for them. Trapped.

Charles snapped his head around and let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was the cop from earlier. "It's alright," he murmured to Erik, squeezing his hand, and then he suddenly remembered where he had seen the cop before. 

He was the man who Erik had taken home with him a few nights before. 

"Well, this is going to be awkward," he said under his breath. Erik gave him a puzzled look before the cop got close enough that Erik recognized him, too.

The police officer also seemed to find it awkward. He stopped about five feet away from them, scratching the back of his neck. "Erik Lehnsherr," he said nodding stiffly, to Erik.

"Logan," Erik said in acknowledgement, nodding back. "Officer."

Logan turned to Charles. "I never got your name."

Charles was hesitant to respond, until Logan sighed and pulled out a small notebook. "I kinda need it."

"Charles Xavier," Charles said. He felt his cheeks burning and tried to relate to the man only in his professional capacity. "Thank you," he said abruptly and belatedly. "For--what you did."

"I wish I could have done more," Logan said. "We get these drunk assholes--" he cut himself off and shook his head. "I kinda wish he had hit you first. Then I coulda arrested him."

"Well, he threw a beer can at me," Charles said. "While--" he swallowed and forced himself to continue. "While Erik and I were kissing. That's what started it."

"He did?" Logan narrowed his eyes. "That's good to know." He turned his head and said an incomprehensible combination of words and codes into the radio on his shoulder. 

"Okay, almost done. I just need to know how to reach you if I need to."

"Erik, what's your phone number?" Charles asked, turning to look at him. 

Erik opened his mouth to reply and then snapped it shut. "I don't--" He shut his eyes and shook his head. "I don't remember. I'm sorry, I don't often call myself." He looked so miserable about it that Charles squeezed his hand. 

"Ahh--okay. Actually...I think I have it," Logan said, red appearing high on his cheeks. He looked at Erik for a moment. "Were you involved in this--altercation?" He asked curiously. "No offense, but you don't look so good."

Erik shook his head and looked at Logan for a moment before saying anything else. "I'm a veteran," he said simply. As if that was all the explanation that was required. 

"Ah. Me too." And apparently that's all that was required, because Logan shut the notebook. "Mr. Xavier, I'll be in touch if we need anything more from you about this incident. Try not to punch anyone else." He winked at Charles and turned to leave the alley. 

Charles turned to Erik and just stood looking at him for a moment. "I'm worried about you," he said honestly. "I'm the one who engaged in violent behavior, but I feel like you're the one who's losing it."

Erik pulled Charles close to him. It was early afternoon, still, the sun presumably high in the sky, behind the cloud cover. Erik put his forehead against Charles' and just breathed for a few minutes. Charles indulged him, seeming to understand that Erik needed some quiet time. After a few minutes, Erik brushed his lips against Charles' and slowly pushed in for a kiss, a gentle but passionate kiss that grew slowly in intensity until his whole body was pressed up against Charles. 

"Let's talk later," he mumbled, his breath hot in Charles' ear. "Right now, I want you to fuck me."

Charles sucked in his breath but he couldn't deny that his penis, trapped against Erik's hard body, liked the sound of that very much. "Can we go back to your apartment first?" Charles whispered back. "You'll forgive me if I'd rather not fuck you in an alley."

He knew Charles said it to be humorous, but Erik was so blinded by the desperate, needy arousal that filled him that he just nodded and let Charles guide him back down the alley to Haight Street, where a cab was fortunately waiting nearby. 

The cab ride was torture. All coherent thought was gone from Erik's mind. He wanted to be fucked into oblivion. He wanted to be filled with Charles. 

They were barely inside the apartment before Erik was ripping off his clothing (in the case of his shirt, unfortunately, literally) while trying not to stop kissing Charles the whole time. Charles was laughing a little at the intensity of Erik's affection, and they were both naked and lying side-by-side facing each other on the bed when Erik realized that Charles was asking him to slow down because he needed to ask something.

"What is it?" Erik murmured. With difficulty, he refrained from putting his mouth on Charles' neck and sucking a bruise into it. 

"This is all moving very fast for me," Charles admitted. "I just want to clarify what it is you would like, exactly?" His hands stroked Erik's side as if he were soothing a wild animal. 

"I want you to fuck me into the mattress," Erik said, and then thought perhaps that wasn't even clear enough. "I want your cock inside me."

Charles exhaled slowly. "Well. Okay. I haven't--done that, before, and honestly I'm a little afraid of hurting you."

Erik _did not_ laugh; Charles was too earnest. "You _won't_ hurt me. I promise."

Charles still looked unsure. Erik kissed him, a lingering sweet kiss. "I'll tell you everything you need to know. I _promise_ you will enjoy it." 

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Charles said in a low voice. "But there haven’t been any long-term studies--” he was interrupted by Erik kissing him.

“ _I’m_ your long-term study,” Erik rasped into his mouth. “I have been doing this for twenty years with no health repercussions. I need it, Charles. I need you to fuck me.” Erik felt uncomfortably close to begging but the urgency of his need would not be denied.

“Okay, okay,” Charles said soothingly. “I will, shh, I will. Just be patient with me. Tell me what to do.”

"You are--amazing." Erik gave Charles a kiss full of promise. "I'll be right back."

Erik went to the bathroom and took a quick shower, then got gloves and a couple condoms and lube from his toiletry bag. As an afterthought he grabbed a towel, too.

Charles was waiting for him on the bed, lazily jerking off, and the sight made Erik's flagging erection surge back to full life. "You are so fucking hot," he told Charles. 

Charles blinked in surprise. "Me? I--" he looked at himself and chuckled. "I'm very glad you think so."

"I've thought so since the first time I saw you," Erik said, kneeling on the bed. "Put this on." He handed Charles a latex glove. 

"I didn't know they made these in purple," Charles said as he put the glove on. "I've only ever seen white."

"White is so clinical," Erik said dismissively. "I like purple." He put a glove on too. 

Charles licked his lips. "We're both wearing gloves?" he said, mild surprise in his tone. 

Erik crawled over him and kissed him. "I thought we could do this together. If you want." 

"I'm all yours," Charles said, as he moved to tongue Erik's nipple. 

Erik squirted some lube onto his gloved hand and then on Charles'. He lay down on his stomach next to Charles, who was on his side. He then guided Charles' hand down to the crack of his ass and pushed the tip of Charles’ index finger inside him. 

Charles kissed Erik's shoulder while he focused his attention on what he was feeling. It didn't seem that tight or that difficult for Erik. Then Erik pushed his own finger in next to Charles' and it felt abruptly tighter.

They moved their hands in unison, finger-fucking Erik's ass together, until Charles whispered, "Can I try for one more? Or is that too much?"

Erik leaned over and gave Charles a deep french kiss, sloppy and hot and promising. "Yes. Please. It's not too much; it's perfect."

Charles took some initiative and pulled out both Erik's finger and his before he arranged his index and middle finger behind Erik's index finger and pushed all three in together. 

Erik's face contorted and Charles watched in fascination as he bit his lip and then gazed at Charles with unfocused eyes. Small whimpers escaped his slack jaw as their combined three fingers pushed inside him and opened him up. 

"You are _so_ incredibly sexy," Charles whispered, unable to tear his eyes off Erik's face. Erik blinked his eyes and licked his lips. Charles took that as an invitation to move closer and run his own tongue over Erik's blood-plumped lower lip before he sucked that lip into his mouth. 

"Fuck me," Erik whispered, sweat on his brow. His green eyes sought Charles' in a way that looked like he was almost pleading. 

"Of course, love," Charles whispered back, pulling their fingers out. His cock was hard and ready, already leaking. "Condom?" 

Erik grabbed a condom from the shelf and passed it to Charles, who took his glove off and tossed it carelessly on the floor before accepting the condom. Erik took his glove off too and watched Charles roll the condom down on his cock. 

Charles got behind Erik as Erik raised to his hands and knees. "How...?" Charles asked, his voice breathless. 

"I like it slow at first," Erik said, his head down and eyes closed. "And then I like it hard and fast. I'll tell you."

"Don't be shy about it," Charles said and Erik almost laughed at the idea of him being shy about anything except that at that moment he felt the blunt head of Charles' cock pushing at his opening. He breathed out and relaxed, his body knowing how to do this. 

"It's not--oh, there it goes," Charles said, as Erik's sphincter gave way. He clutched Erik's hips. "Oh. Jesus. That's--tight."

"Keep going," Erik gasped, gathering one of the pillows on the bed under his face. "Slowly."

With some obvious difficulty, Charles pushed in slowly, his hands still holding Erik's hips. "Is it wet enough?" Charles asked anxiously. 

"Uh--more lube is always good," Erik said, resenting a little that he had to use his brain when all he wanted was mindless fucking. But he knew Charles wasn't there yet. He could tell that Charles was putting more lube on as his shaft and he felt the difference when Charles pushed in a little bit more.

"Better?" Charles asked.

Erik just moaned in response. 

Charles kept pushing in, slowly, until his balls were pressed against Erik's peritoneum. "What would you like now?" Charles asked. 

He sounded a little uncertain and Erik felt like he should be more reassuring or something, but Charles' cock felt so good inside him that he wanted to glide on that blissful feeling. "Rock," he whispered. "In and out. Right there. Just a bit."

Charles started to do just that, exactly what Erik had asked, and Erik realized that having a sex partner with no preconceptions who was eager to take direction was actually a pretty good thing. 

Erik reached down to start stroking himself and noticed he was being much noisier than he usually was, and was actually moaning quite a bit. 

"Do you want me to do that?" Charles whispered, as Charles' right hand moved around Erik's hip to his cock. 

"Actually...I like your hands on my hips," Erik said, hoping Charles wouldn't feel offended or rejected. "Can you start fucking me a little harder now?"

Charles did so, and Erik moaned loudly at how fucking good it felt. He gripped his cock tightly, alternatively holding it and stroking it, trying to draw out the pleasure as long as possible. 

"Erik," Charles said in a strangled voice. "I'm close. I want to fuck you hard. Can I?"

"Yes, fuck me hard, _yes_ , fuck," Erik said, and Charles immediately started slamming into him, hard and fast. Erik stroked himself hard, too, the way he liked it, hovering on the edge of orgasm but still waiting. 

"Erik--I'm going to--"

"Yes, come inside me, fucking yes," Erik panted, and then felt Charles give one last thrust that buried his cock deeply inside Erik and he groaned loudly. 

"Don't move, don't move," Erik panted, because there was nothing he loved more than climaxing with a hard cock deep in his ass. He jerked himself off roughly and a few seconds later he was coming, too, an intense and fucking incredible orgasm that made him yell, marred only by his frantic grasping for the hand towel that he'd brought from the bathroom for this very purpose. He buried his face in the pillow, groaning into it as he came into the towel.

Charles kissed his back and stroked his sides while Erik came, keeping his cock deep inside. It wasn't until Erik shifted and made a small sound that Charles started to slowly withdraw from Erik's ass, holding the rim of the condom as he did so. 

He took care of the condom and collapsed on his back next to Erik, breathing heavily. "That was--amazing. Jesus Christ. And very different."

Erik chuckled weakly, turning on his side to face Charles. "You and your wife never did anal?" He immediately cringed as it occurred to him what a horribly tasteless question that was and hoped he hadn’t offended Charles.

Charles shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. The question didn't seem to bother him at all. "We tried it once," he said, yawning. "She said she didn't like it, and there were plenty of things we both liked, so..." Charles shrugged. 

Erik put his hand on Charles' chest, idly stroking him. "I'm sorry if it looked like I abandoned you today," he said, apropos of nothing.

Charles turned his head to look at Erik. "That did surprise me," he said carefully. "Where did Steve come from, anyway?"

Erik shook his head. "I don't know why he was there. But honestly - it's good he was. What he said..." Erik sighed. "I would have killed that man if he had retaliated your punch at all."

Charles' eyes were wide and his brow furrowed as he looked at Erik. 

"Steve - Captain Rogers - he knows me, when I'm...like that. He knows what I'm capable of. He may have saved me from a lengthy prison sentence today."

Charles swallowed and brought Erik's hand to his mouth, kissing the back of his fingers one by one. 

"He told me today," Erik continued, in a voice so soft it was nearly a whisper, "He told me he knew I needed to get out of the Persian Gulf. That I needed to go home, and take care of--" Erik broke off. "He said that's why he didn't interfere when he got the order that I was to be discharged. Because he knew I needed to get out. He said the military would use me as they best saw fit, otherwise, and for someone like me that would mean...bad things."

"Someone like you?" Charles questioned. “What does that mean?”

Erik took a moment before replying. "A killer."

"Let's talk about happier things," Charles said a moment later. "I kissed you, in public. Aren't you proud of me?" He rolled on top on Erik. 

Erik gave him a slow smile. "Yes," he said. "Do it again." Charles leaned forward and kissed him. 

"Was it cathartic, to punch that jerk?" Erik said idly, stroking Charles' hair. "I gather you had a rough time with your stepbrother, growing up."

Charles snorted. "'Rough time.' Yes, that's putting it mildly. He hospitalized me three times."

"Jesus," Erik said, his brow knitting. 

Charles kissed Erik again. "It was a long time ago. I just--the word that man said today...I hate it. And that's what Cain used to say to me, all the time. My stepfather, too." He climbed off Erik and sat cross-legged, next to him on the bed, picking at random pieces of lint on the sheet under them. "I guess that’s why I was in denial for so long. I could acknowledge on some level that I was attracted to men, but it was hard for me to consider myself anything but straight, because I didn't want them to be _right_. I hated the idea that they could be right about anything."

"Well, from what Raven said, it sounds like they have gotten their just desserts," Erik said. "But if you ever want me to kill them, let me know."

Charles was just rising to go to the bathroom and he looked back at Erik in alarm. "I hope you're kidding."

Erik spread his hands and looked at Charles with raised eyebrows and a little bit of levity. "Am I? I don't even know. But if someone wants to hurt you I think they will find themselves hurting at least as much."

Charles tried to bite back the huge smile on his face. He crawled on top of Erik again. "I like you a lot," he said sincerely, leaning down to kiss Erik gently on the cheek. "I just want you to know that." 

Charles went into the bathroom and was humming as he started the water for the shower. Erik got up and wandered to the door of the bathroom. "I was thinking about ordering something for delivery," Erik said. "We didn’t eat lunch and it's getting late. Do you have a preference?"

"Whatever you want," Charles called out, from under the spray. "I trust you."

And just like that, the fragile bubble of Erik's good mood popped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language and slurs; horrible homophobic rednecks; minor violence; Bottom!Erik (apparently that needs a warning?); lots of F-bombs.


	7. Brunch

Friday morning dawned foggy, which did not surprise Charles at all. He was awake early but lay in bed on his side, not quite touching Erik, feeling melancholy. It was his last day with Erik. He was going to leave the following day, Saturday, which meant going back to his home and his children and preparing for his fall classes. As a single parent. 

Charles wondered how much his life would change after that week and realized - probably, not much. He closed his eyes tightly as they started to sting for some stupid reason. Yes, he would miss Erik. But that would get better, with time. It was still possible he could have a future with someone else, perhaps Moira...Charles didn’t dwell on that possibility because the thought of lying to a partner was abhorrent to him and yet he doubted Moira would accept that he’d had sex with a man. And although Moira was a lovely woman, she wasn’t who Charles wanted to think about right now. Because at that moment, Erik was lying right next to him, on his back, still sleeping. Charles cuddled up next to him on his side and stroked his chest. 

Erik made a rumbly, happy sound, his eyes still closed. Charles moved closer and started to kiss his chest; light, feathery kisses. "Morning," Erik said, putting his arm around Charles and kissing him on the top of the head. "What a nice way to wake up."

"I would never have imagined when I started reading your column that I would someday be waking up in bed with you," Charles said, his voice wondering.

"You did imagine the sex, though?" Erik teased. 

"You know that I did," Charles said with a grin against Erik's chest. "I was just remembering one column you wrote years ago, where you said you'd never had sex with or even kissed a woman. Is that still true?"

Erik touched his fingertips to Charles'. "Still true. I have zero interest in women."

"Really?" Charles tipped his head up to look at Erik, his blue eyes inquisitive. "Not even aesthetically? Surely you like breasts. Everyone likes breasts."

"Bags of fat," Erik said, which made Charles make a face at him. Erik laughed and stroked his hand down Charles' back until his long fingers splayed across Charles' ass cheeks. "If I want something round and bouncy, this is much more my speed."

Charles leaned up to kiss him and Erik let his middle finger slide between Charles' ass cheeks. Charles moved so that Erik's finger was subtly rejected, although he didn’t seem to be consciously aware of that. "If I wanted to--" Charles hesitated. "If two men meet and they want to have sex, is there a way that they know--some kind of um, code or convention, or something, I don't know--how they know...which one will be interested in being the, um, well the penetrator, I suppose, versus the penetrated?"

Erik was both amused and bothered by Charles' question. Erik clearly wasn't one of the men in Charles' hypothetical scenario, which meant Charles was thinking about having sex with other men. The thought filled Erik with possessiveness. 

"Well, there's not a secret handshake if that's what you're asking," Erik said dryly. He pushed Charles onto his back and nuzzled the pale skin of his neck. He lowered his voice. "Generally--if either party desires penetration--it's discussed the way people discuss anything, by talking." Erik nipped at Charles' neck. He wanted to leave marks. The thought of Charles' having sex with other men was getting under his skin and making him itch. He sucked at Charles neck but Charles squirmed away.

"I don't want any marks where my children might see them," he said apologetically. 

Children. Right. "What about where they can't see?" Erik said in a husky voice, moving lower on Charles' chest. There was a spot just under Charles' collarbone that seemed particularly suckable. Erik nuzzled and nipped there. 

“I guess that’s--oh, that’s nice,” Charles murmur, as Erik started simultaneously fondling Charles’ mostly-flaccid penis. Erik was pleased to see the skin under his mouth turning dark magenta, and he moved lower, mindful of Charles’ concern, but still wanting to mark, to claim…

“I want to fuck you,” Erik whispered hotly to Charles as his thoughts reached their conclusion. A dark, animalistic part of Erik wanted to possess Charles, wanted to do something he would feel for days; make sure he could not forget about Erik when other men were sniffing around him in New York.

Charles inhaled. “Do you mean…?” He stiffened slightly and Erik immediately regretted the words he’d chosen.

“I mean that I’m interested in penetrating you with my penis, if you feel so inclined.” Erik lifted his head and looked at Charles, trying to make his request feel more casual once he realized from Charles’ body language that he was going to be turned down.

Charles’ brow furrowed slightly. “I’m sorry, Erik--I don’t want to do that.”

“No need to apologize,” Erik said quickly, leaning up for a kiss. He wanted very much to fuck Charles, but he certainly did not want to make the man uncomfortable by trying to convince him. 

“However,” Charles said with a coy smile, “I would love to suck your cock, if I may.”

Erik smiled. "I've created a monster," he said. Charles grinned like a predator and pushed Erik onto his back as he kissed his way down to Erik’s torso to his slowly engorging member. 

Charles straddled Erik's legs and sucked the man's half-hard cock into his mouth, marvelling at how different it felt when it was not fully erect, and at how much more he could get in his mouth before it got hard enough that he could only get his mouth around the top half. At that point he made a noise of frustration and pulled off. "How did you do that, to mine?" Charles said wonderingly. "Get it all inside, I mean."

Erik tactfully did not make a comment about the size discrepancy between their penises, although the size of Charles' penis was certainly nothing he should be ashamed of. "The angle can be a big factor," Erik commented, watching Charles through half-lidded eyes. "You might find it easier if your head were upside down."

"Upside down?" Charles frowned, clearly confused at what Erik meant. Erik couldn't help smiling. 

"Have you ever sixty-nined before?" Erik asked softly. 

"Oh. Oh! I see. Yes, I have. Do you want to do that?"

Erik shrugged. It actually wasn't his favorite position. "There's another way, too. Shall I show you that?"

"Yes, if you like it better," Charles said. 

Erik sat up and kissed Charles. "You’re just so agreeable when it comes to sucking my cock,” he said with smile. "Okay, lie on the bed, on your back, with your head hanging just off the side."

Charles raised his eyebrows at Erik and got on top of the covers, following Erik's instructions. "And then I--well, I fuck your face." Erik suddenly thought the position might be presumptuous of him and paused. "If you want, I mean."

Charles was laid out flat on the bed, naked, a feast for Erik's eyes. He made an impatient sound and beckoned with both hands for Erik to bring him his penis. Grinning, Erik stood over Charles' face and inhaled sharply at the feeling as Charles sucked Erik's cock into his mouth. He braced his hands on either side of Charles on the edge of the bed to get the optimal angle; with his Charles’ head off the side of the bed, his throat was more open than usual. Charles grabbed both of Erik's thighs with his hands and pulled Erik closer. Erik wondered if it was supposed to look as hot as it did, to see Charles straining to take in as much of Erik's cock as he could, the tendons on his neck protruding, his face red. Erik pulled back after a few minutes because he knew Charles needed to breathe.

"That's fucking awesome, I love this, Erik, please, fuck my face, like you said," Charles said breathlessly, almost desperately, once Erik pulled his cock out of his mouth. 

"Oh, you do like that, don't you," Erik murmured, and slid his cock back into Charles' mouth, a little deeper than it had gone a moment before. Charles moaned in delight even though his mouth was stretched so wide around Erik's cock that it had to be making his jaw sore. Even buried as deep as their anatomy would allow, Charles' lips were still an inch or so from the base. Erik pulled it out again slowly, watching Charles trying strenuously to keep it in, feeling the suction Charles was using to try and keep Erik's cock in his mouth. 

"Erik, fuck my face," Charles gasped. It was halfway between an order and a plea. One of his hands went to his own cock and Erik batted it away. 

"I'll take care of that," Erik said softly. "Keep your hands on my thighs." He spat in his right hand (tacky, perhaps, but the lube was out of reach and Charles wasn't really in a position to notice) and wrapped it around Charles' cock before gripping it and beginning to stroke. He lowered his cock into Charles' face again and watched as Charles moaned and strained around his cock. Erik began thrusting his hips forward with much less force than he would have fucked Charles' ass, but it was thrilling to see how much Charles enjoyed it, making little sounds, his face red and jaw stretched, his cheeks and chin smeared with saliva. 

In fact, Charles came not long after, with Erik stroking him through it and watching appreciatively as Charles' abdomen contracted and got covered in pearly strands of semen. Charles pulled his mouth away from Erik's cock for just that moment before groaning loudly and sucking it back in, albeit with less desperation than he had started sucking it. 

He brought his right hand up to Erik's cock and started stroking it while he kept tonguing the head. "Come on my face," he said, still blissed out, eyes closed. 

It occurred to Erik that if someone had told him the day he'd met Charles that Dr. Charles Xavier would be asking for come on his face, he would not have believed them. And yet here he was. 

Erik was close. "I can't," he said, his voice rough. He wanted to, he wanted to mark Charles that way; he wanted to have the memory of seeing Charles’ face cris-crossed with his come...but he couldn’t. He didn't bother to do the mental math about the risk involved - he had already decided it was a line he wouldn't cross, no matter how fucking amazing it would be to see.

However, that the idea that Charles wanted it was really, really hot. 

At that thought, Erik felt his climax rising and pulled his cock out of Charles' grasp and mouth and gripped it hard himself for the few seconds it took him to move so that he came on Charles' chest. 

He panted over Charles for a moment, leaning on his hand, before he stood to grab the towel that was still conveniently near the bed. He passed it to Charles then collapsed on his back. 

"So," Charles said, panting next to him. "It turns out safe sex is kind of a drag."

Erik laughed and caught Charles' hand in his and kissed it. "It's better than the alternative, believe me."

Charles sensed there was a great sadness behind Erik's words and he almost asked if Erik had known anyone with HIV or AIDS but he realized what a bad idea it was to ask that just in time to stop himself. Erik had been a sexually active gay man for twenty years, all through the 1980's; _of course_ he had known people who'd had HIV or AIDS. And probably a lot of those had died. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, Erik had definitely addressed that in his column, even if he hadn't named anyone specifically. 

"You okay?"

Charles turned his head to look at Erik, who was brushing a lock of Charles' too-long hair out of his eyes, affectionate concern on his face. 

Charles inhaled and smiled, looking back at Erik. "Yes. Just got a little sad about the state of the world for a moment, that's all."

"Mmm. I tend to get angry about the state of the world."

Charles rolled over and kissed Erik. "Let's try not to get sad _or_ mad today, okay?" He rested his chin on Erik's chest and Erik idly stroked his back, tipping his chin down to look at Charles.

"Okay," he said, with a small smile, leaning forward to get another kiss. 

"I claim first shower," Charles said, rolling off the bed. Erik wished Charles had stayed on him a little bit longer. 

"That’s alright, I need to call Emma, anyway," Erik said, watching Charles' round bottom flex as he walked across the room. He wondered if Charles would let Erik spank him. He immediately realized it was a moot point; Charles would be gone the next day. He swallowed and tried to push away the gloom because Charles was right; they should try not to be sad or mad. They should make the best of the time they had left.

Erik sighed and dialed Emma. When she answered, he said, "Hey. It's me. What time and where did you want to have brunch?" 

"Well. Good morning to you too, Erik. Let’s see...we have a lot to talk about since your book-release obligations are finally over, so someplace quiet makes sense. I would normally say Yank Sing but it's usually pretty busy - The Cliff House is a better idea." She paused and spoke delicately. "You're not going to bring your new boytoy, are you?"

Erik frowned. "I _am_ planning to bring Charles, yes."

Emma hesitated a moment. "You know he's got it bad for you, right, sugar?"

Erik glanced at the bathroom door, where he could hear the shower going. Yes, Erik knew that Charles liked Erik. "Do you have a point, Emma?"

He heard Emma sigh. "Don't bring him today, okay? We have a lot of things to iron out this morning and he's just going to be a distraction."

Erik knew Emma had a point, but he also wanted to make the most of the time Charles had left in San Francisco. "Well, I've already invited him. Maybe you and I should reschedule."

"We've put this strategy session off _twice_ already," Emma said, clearly annoyed. "Specifically because you wanted to pant after a straight boy. Congratulations, it worked, you fucked him. All hail Erik Lehnsherr's magical cock."

_You are such an asshole,_ Erik wanted to say but didn't. Mostly because assholes were far nicer than Emma Frost. "How are you so sure I fucked him?" he said instead.

"Sugar, it's written all over both of you...listen. Disinvite him. Or better yet, cut him loose today...it's another day he won't be getting his hopes up about playing house with you. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind."

Erik pressed the receiver against his forehead. Emma was crude and blunt, but she knew him, and she had a point. Still...Erik would do things in his own time.

"Charles _is_ coming to brunch," he said firmly. "We'll see you in a hour at the Cliff House."

There was a long pause. "Ok, sugar," Emma said softly, and hung up. It sounded oddly like a threat.

Erik subsumed his guilt and went to join Charles in the shower. 

**

Emma Frost was already seated when they arrived, wearing a pale pink fitted cashmere coat over a white dress. "Dr. Charles Xavier," she greeted him coolly as Charles and Erik seated themselves. She glanced at Erik. "You never said, Erik - did I win our bet?"

Erik froze, poised over the chair, about to be seated. _"What?"_

"Oh, you remember," she said casually, her ice-blue eyes flicking over to Charles. "The one about Charles."

"You had a bet about me?" Charles asked, looking at Erik curiously. He was only mildly curious what it might have been until he saw the look on Erik's face; Erik was red and his facial expression was blaring shame. Charles frowned and looked back at Emma and saw the same light smile playing about her lips that she'd had since they'd walked in. 

And then he had a very good idea what the bet had been about. Charles looked down at his placemat and felt his ears burning. 

"I bet you're both more than ready to go your respective homes, after being stuffed in that rented love nest for a week," she continued blithely. 

"Emma!" Erik snapped. 

"Although some people like that sort of thing," she continued as if Erik hadn't spoken. She stirred her ice tea. "Tell me, Charles, did you get _stuffed_ in the love nest? It's rather pertinent to our bet, you see." 

Charles lifted his head to stare at Emma as all the implications and innuendos in her words registered in his mind. He felt his pulse quickening in anger. He swallowed and tried to speak as calmly as possible. "Erik, could I speak to you for a moment?"

Erik's face was stony as he wordlessly stood up and led Charles to a balcony full of empty tables. It became obvious immediately why nobody was seated on the balcony - the wind was constant and strong, and it chilled Charles instantly, despite the fact that he was wearing the warmest clothes he’d brought - a long-sleeved button-down shirt under a cardigan. The view of the ocean was stunning, but Charles was blind to it. 

It was on the tip of Charles' tongue to demand an explanation, but he realized that he was pretty sure he knew the explanation...even if he didn't want it to be true. "You bet Emma that you could fuck me," he said, giving Erik a steady look. 

Erik ran a hand through his hair. "It was an offhand comment I made to her."

“Is that why you wanted to--” Charles broke off, thinking about how Erik had wanted to top him that morning, and how Emma had emphasized the word ‘stuffed’. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.” He inhaled and gave Erik a hard look. "So you rented an apartment, just for my visit? One you made sure had only one bed?"

Erik sighed and looked out over the water. "Yes," he admitted.

"And you really live in Daly City," Charles continued. 

Erik frowned. "Yes, I do. How did you--oh. Right. The card I gave David."

"That's a lot of effort to go to just to fuck somebody," Charles said. 

Erik snapped his eyes to Charles' face. Charles sounded completely neutral, his face blank. 

Erik shifted uncomfortably. He’d expected Charles to be angry; Erik deserved Charles' anger, and Charles needed a reason to put Erik behind him. He hesitated, and remembered Emma’s words, damn her to hell: _Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind._ "Well," Erik said, not meeting Charles' eyes, "I like a challenge."

There was no response for a moment and Erik chanced a look at Charles' face to see him the angriest Erik had ever seen him. 

"You spent twelve thousand dollars and god knows how much renting that ridiculous studio apartment so you could fuck a straight guy because _you like a challenge_?" Charles said, his voice rising with every word. "Did you once stop to think that you might be turning _my_ life inside out? Because of you I’ve risked not only my personal identity, but also my professional reputation, not to mention there’s what my kids--" Charles cut himself off and Erik felt like there was a knife twisting in his gut when he saw tears in Charles' eyes. 

"You knew what you were doing," Erik said, defensively. “I made my opinions on long-term relationships _abundantly_ clear, on more than one occasion." Erik said. He lowered his voice and almost muttered his next sentence. "If you expected anything more from me than sex, it’s not my fault.”

Charles stared at Erik, the expression on his face a combination of shock, horror, and disgust. “You don’t get it.”

"Monogamy, lifelong relationships, being faithful to one person forever--that's all a myth. It doesn't exist," Erik continued, ignoring the lump in his throat. "It's painful but it's true. Don't expect things from people that they can't give."

"Oh, _shut_ up," Charles said, rolling his eyes, his nose crinkled in utter disgust. "For one thing, of _course_ it exists. I _had_ that. I had that with Gabrielle. And if she was still alive, we would still have it, and I never would have even met you. For another, I didn’t--”

"And you would still be hiding! Safe in your fake-hetero world," Erik shouted back, interrupting, a sneer on his face. "I did you a favor, whether you want to admit it or not."

Charles had been about to say that he hadn’t expected anything from Erik but respect. But at Erik’s last sentence Charles went numb. He couldn't believe this was the same man he'd had sex with not two hours earlier. It felt like a nightmare. He looked at Erik and saw Erik's teeth clenched, his body vibrating with anger and frustration. _At least I affect him,_ Charles thought. It was a poor consolation. 

Suddenly something about the words Erik was saying percolated through Charles’ awareness. He seemed unusually fixated on monogamy and being faithful...perhaps that was something that Erik knew he couldn’t do from experience. That early morning phone call he'd made...a house in Daly City..."Are you married?" Charles asked suddenly, watching Erik closely for his reaction.

Erik looked at Charles like he’d gone insane. “I’m not _married,_ ” he said, as if the word tasted bad.

"Okay,” Charles said. He knew Erik wasn’t literally married, of course, because men couldn’t marry other men...unless he had lied about his lack of interest in women, but Charles didn’t think he had. But he didn’t want to let Erik off the hook on a technicality. “But you _do_ live with someone, don’t you? Someone that you--love?"

Erik stood stock still and blinked at Charles. He made a sound that might have been a laugh if there had been any mirth in it and shook his head. "Yes," he said, with bitter humor.

Charles felt like he had been punched in the gut. He couldn't quite think; his thoughts felt foggy. He left immediately, walking back into and through the restaurant, ignoring Emma completely. Once he was out front, he walked up to one of the taxi cabs parked outside the restaurant. "Sacramento," he told the cab driver. 

**

Charles arrived at Raven's house in the late afternoon, his face puffy from crying. The cab driver had to have noticed, but Charles was silently grateful that the man ignored it completely. 

Charles knocked on Raven’s door and was silently grateful when she herself answered--it occurred to him right before she answered that it could have been any one of the kids. She took one look at him and her eyes widened in shock. “Charles, what are you doing here?”

“Can I borrow forty dollars?” he asked. “I’m a little short.” He gestured vaguely to the taxi parked in front of the house with it’s engine idling. 

Her jaw dropped. “You took a _taxi_ from San Francisco?”

Charles just rubbed his forehead. “Please, Raven. I’ll explain everything. And I’ll pay you back.”

Raven stared at Charles for a moment then almost jumped when she realized her was waiting for her. “Oh! Right. I’ll grab my purse and be right back.”

When she came back with cash, Charles paid the taxi driver and went inside the house with Raven. He was about to ask where the kids were when he saw through the living room window that all three were splashing in the pool. It almost looked inviting, considering that a summer day in Sacramento was significantly hotter than a summer day in the city by the bay. Charles was still wearing the long-sleeved button-down shirt that he had dressed in that morning, minus the cardigan, but he had rolled up the sleeves and unbuttoned the top two buttons in a concession to the temperature. Since his luggage was still at ‘Erik’s apartment’, he didn’t have anything to change into.

Raven patted the seat on the sofa next to her. It faced the television but behind that was a view of the pool. Charles sat down heavily next to her. 

“Spill,” she said firmly, but not unkindly. 

“Erik is...not who I thought he was,” Charles said, feeling the lump in his throat rising. “He’s a liar, and a cheater, and I can’t believe that I let myself care for someone who had so little respect for me.” He couldn’t stop the tears at that point and Raven just grasped his hand and held it tightly until he was able to speak again. 

“What did he do?” Raven asked in a whisper when it seemed that Charles was ready to speak again. 

Charles exhaled hard. “He’s in relationship,” Charles said morosely. “Someone he lives with in Daly City. That apartment in San Francisco - he just rented it for the week, to get in my pants, because someone bet him he couldn’t fuck me.”

Raven’s eyes got large. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “What an asshole. How did you find out?”

“His agent,” Charles said, and the thought of that hurt too, her callous disregard for Charles’ feelings. “She’s a real piece of work. So then I confronted him, and he confirmed everything.”

“So he spent the whole week away from his partner without any contact? To be with you?” Raven was frowning, trying to make sense of it. Charles wanted to tell her it made even less sense to him, because he’d seen the way Erik looked him, the way he’d kissed Charles…

“There was one phone call I overheard,” Charles said glumly. “He thought I was asleep. There may have others; we weren’t around each other every second.” Although they very nearly had been. 

“But that--” Raven was still frowning. “I mean, maybe they have some arrangement? Maybe his partner was okay with it?”

Charles snorted. “Well, he apparently sleeps around a lot. So maybe that is the case. But still…he should have told me if that were his living situation.” Charles sighed. “Someone warned me that he was a heartbreaker, you know. Yesterday.” Charles realized that telling Raven the whole story of the day before was more than he really wanted to get into, though. “I know the sun hasn’t even gone down yet, but can I trouble you for a drink?”

Raven looked at him for a moment, then sighed in resignation. “Of course. Rum and coke okay? That’s really all I’ve got.”

“It’s fine,” Charles said, although it wasn’t his favorite drink. 

Charles drank his first drink rather quickly, under Raven’s disapproving gaze. His mother had died of liver failure due to her drinking problem, so on one level it was understandable, but on another he wanted Raven to not judge him for once in his life. 

He poured himself a second drink while they both watched the kids playing the backyard through the window, the kids who weren’t even aware that Charles was there. He felt a bit guilty about that, but he’d rather feel a little more put together before he greeted them. For now, it was enough to watch them, swimming and shouting and throwing inflatable toys. It made Charles feel better. 

He suddenly missed Gabby so hard it was almost a physical feeling. 

“The thing of it is, I really didn’t expect a relationship from him,” Charles said abruptly, after neither he or Raven had spoken in a several minutes. “I liked him a lot, I can’t even pretend that I didn’t. And I definitely...enjoyed...what we did together. But I knew our lives weren’t compatible. I knew he didn’t want that. I even had a little speech prepared for him, about how much that week had meant to me, how I was never going to forget it…” Charles finally did not feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes for the first time that day. “But it was so painful, learning how little respect he’d had for me. He didn’t have to do that. It didn’t have to be that way.”

Raven was just watching him and listening, nodding sympathetically. Charles studied her for a moment. “I came out to him, you know.”

Raven blinked at Charles. “Came out as what?”

“As bisexual.”

“Oh, well, you told me that a long time ago.” Charles had been about twenty when he told his fifteen-year-old sister (and best friend) what he suspected about himself. He hadn’t told anyone else until his wife, and only then after they had been married.

“No, I told you I was sometimes sexually attracted to men.”

“Um, okay. I didn’t know there was a distinction.”

“To me there is.” Charles finished his second drink and thought hard about pouring a third when Jean got out of the pool and went to the back sliding glass door. 

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, seeing him and starting to run towards him. 

“Don’t come inside without a towel!” Raven exclaimed, and Jean pouted but went back outside, standing at the door. Charles hastened over to the back door, picking up a towel on his way, which he wrapped around Jean, making it part of a hug. 

She hugged him back and he felt her wet hair on his cheek. “Are you gonna go swimming with us?” she asked excitedly. 

Charles appreciated that she took his presence for granted; he’d rather not have to make up an explanation for his nine-year-old daughter.

“Well, I think not, because I’m afraid these are all the clothes I have with me,” Charles said, realizing that was a problem he would have to address sooner rather than later. 

“Okay,” Jean said, not batting an eye. “Is it okay if I go swim some more?” 

“Of course,” Charles said, and watched his daughter go back outside. He saw Jean say something to David and then saw David look up in surprise, then head towards the house himself. 

He stopped short as Charles tossed him a towel before he had quite reached the back door. “Whoa! Dad! What are you doing here?” His wet hair was hanging in his eyes. Wearing only his swim trunks, he looked almost painfully skinny and even younger than his fourteen years. 

“Just watching you guys playing in the pool,” Charles said. It seemed the safest answer. 

David held onto the doorframe and peered into the living room eagerly, looking for another person. “Is Erik with you? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”

“No, Erik is not with me,” Charles said, a little more sharply than he intended. “Erik is not a good person, David. In fact, I don’t think you should read his column anymore. You’re really too young for it anyway.”

David stared at him in shocked silence before his brow knitted in anger. “What? That’s stupid. Is this because he’s gay?”

“No, of course not--” Charles started to say right when David, lifting his chin defiantly, said “Because I’m gay too.” 

Charles looked at his son and just felt exhausted. The drinks he’d consumed were part of it, but he realized that raising children without Gabby’s input was just so exhausting, and this...he didn’t want to deal with this right now. He shouldn’t have to deal with this yet.

“Very funny, David,” he said, not looking at his son, going back to sit on the couch. “I know you like and admire Erik, and I’m sure he makes being gay look very cool, but you are really too young to know something like that about yourself yet. You--” Charles would have continued but David interrupted him. 

“You _don’t_ understand. He was _wrong_ about you. You are _never_ going to understand me!” David screamed at Charles and then ran through the living room and down the hall, angrily brushing at his eyes. 

Charles put his face in his hands. “I need to use the restroom,” he said, and fled before he could see the look on his sister’s face.

**

Erik watched Charles leave and go straight to the front door of the restaurant. It felt like a part of him was getting ripped out, being taken along with Charles. That had never happened before. He’d had to let a lot of lovers down in the same way; sometimes they were indifferent and sometimes they were angry or sad, but Erik had never felt particularly affected before. It had never _hurt_ before. Maybe it could have been different, he thought, if Emma hadn’t said such incendiary things. Maybe he and Charles could have been friends, had occasional trysts…

But he knew, deep inside himself, that he would never be able to be that with Charles. He wouldn’t be able to watch Charles have sex with other people and explore his newly-accepted bisexuality; he wouldn’t be able to see Charles in relationships with other people. Erik knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach it. He’d rather the man hated him. 

He thought about firing Emma Frost, right then and there. A part of him wanted to, badly. There had been no need for Charles to know about the rented apartment or the stupid bet...but would Erik have been able to push Charles away, without that initial impetus? 

And when it had looked like the man might be so ridiculously good that he would be willing to forgive even those things, Erik made sure that Charles would despise him. With one syllable that wasn’t even a lie.

He decided not to fire Emma after all. She was a shitty person, but he was worse. 

**

Charles was in the bathroom an embarrassingly long time. He was having trouble keeping his head on straight about Erik, vacillating between anger and sadness, and to pile parental responsibilities on top of that seemed so unfair. He realized that he was being childish, and he felt guilty that he was being such a crappy parent, but guilt wasn’t making him feel any better. Charles realized that drinking had probably been a mistake and gulped water from the faucet, trying to sober up. After about forty minutes he emerged from the restroom to see Raven sitting on the couch, in the one seat that was a direct lone of sight to the bathroom door, looking like she’d been waiting for him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. 

He nodded. “Better, now.”

She nodded back. “You need to talk to David,” she said firmly. 

Charles sighed. “I know. I just think he’s jumping to conclusions a little too soon. I was an adult before I realized--you know, about myself.”

“First of all, _he’s not you_ ,” Raven said, and Charles saw that she was more upset with Charles than he had realized. “Your son came out to you and you completely blew him off. How do you think that made him feel? Don’t you think it took some courage to say that?”

Charles remembered how he’d felt after telling Erik he was bisexual; both terrified and euphoric. He closed his eyes. “Raven, please,” he said weakly. 

“No, Charles,” she said evenly. “I gave you forty minutes to feel bad for yourself. You can’t just take a vacation from being a parent. _You_ fucked up. I know you are hurting but you need to apologize to David and take what he’s saying seriously. You can lick your wounds later.”

Charles felt defensive - he wanted to tell Raven that she had no right to tell him how to be a parent, except that he could easily imagine Gabby telling him the exact same thing. Because she was right. He took a deep breath. He needed to get his shit together. “Okay,” he said.

**

David had never felt more hurt and angry in his life. Erik had been wrong about his Dad, but he didn’t blame Erik - he blamed his stupid, ignorant, bigoted Dad. He showered and went to lie down in Kurt’s bed. David and Kurt were technically sharing Kurt’s bedroom for that week while Jean slept in the spare room. It didn’t really matter, though, since Kurt had this weird habit of disappearing and sleeping somewhere that was a complete mystery to David. 

He’d been lying there a while, and he kept expecting his Dad to walk through the door, and he was both anxiously expecting it and dreading it at the same time. But the person who came through the door about thirty minutes later was Jean.

She saw him lying on the bed and frowned in confusion. “Why are you in bed?” she asked. 

“None of your business. Go away.”

She ignored his words and walked closer. “Have you been crying?”

David ignored her question and turned away from her. After a moment he felt her climb up and lie down on the bed next to him and hug him. She also patted his head awkwardly and ineffectively, but he found himself appreciating that she cared. 

“Do you know what gay means?” he asked her after a minute.

“Yes,” she said. “It means boys who like other boys. Like Erik.”

“Well...I’m gay. Like Erik.” Coming out to his little sister felt like a small thing, but his heart still beat a little faster.

“Oh.” She was quiet a moment. “Does Daddy know?”

“Pssh,” David said. “Dad won’t believe me. That’s why I’m mad.”

Her little brow crinkled. “That’s weird. Well maybe you could talk to Erik about it?” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” That was actually a pretty good idea, he thought. Even though his Dad had just specifically told him that he didn’t want to him to read Erik’s column anymore. “Dad’s really mad at Erik right now. I don’t think he’d want me to talk to him.” Not that David would let that stop him.

“Oh.” This time Jean sounded really sad. “Maybe they broke up.”

“Friends don’t break up,” David scoffed, even though he really couldn’t expect his little sister to know that. 

“I know that! Sheesh. But I think they were each other’s boyfriends. Like girlfriend-boyfriend boyfriends.”

David rolled his eyes. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Dad isn’t gay. He’s like the opposite of gay.”

“Well, I saw Erik kiss Daddy,” Jean said defensively. “At the Exploratorium.”

“No you didn’t,” David said derisively.

She got angry. “I did _too!_ I saw him do this.” She leaned down to David and pressed her lips against his temple for a moment.

David stared at her with a furrowed brow. He could not think of a reason why Erik would have done that if he and his Dad weren’t more than friends and he couldn’t think why his sister would make that up - it seemed too specific, and too random. But it didn’t make sense at all. 

“And, Daddy has a hickey,” she said, crossing her arms, as if that settled it.

David stared at her in shock. _“What?_ Where?”

Jean pointed to her collar bone. “I saw it when I hugged him. His shirt was a little unbuttoned.”

David scowled at his little sister. That hickey might not be from Erik, he thought. Except if it was, it did help explain why his Dad suddenly hated Erik, and why he had showed up here, and why he was drinking and looked like he’d been crying. Although it did not explain why he’d been a dick to David.

David realized he needed to see the mark for himself, even though the thought of being around his Dad right now made his stomach clench. 

“Oh yeah,” Jean said, like she had just remembered. “I’m s’posed to tell you dinner’s in fifteen minutes.” At that moment, they both heard Aunt Raven calling, _”Kids! Dinner!”_

“Okay,” David sighed. He could do this. He rolled up off the bed and followed Jean down the hall - only to run into his Dad coming the other way. 

“David,” Charles said, his voice soft. “Can we talk for a moment?”

David stared at his Dad’s collar, trying to see what Jean had described. He didn’t see anything. Maybe it was still hidden under the shirt. 

“I just want dinner,” David mumbled, pushing past his Dad and going towards the table. 

Dinner was tense for David, although Uncle Hank seemed to be doing his best to make everyone feel better with stupid jokes. At least he was making Kurt giggle, and Jean sometimes, although she was more subdued than usual that evening, her eyes darting between her father and David anxiously. 

David had finished about half his meal when he saw it. His Dad had reached for the pepper shaker and the top of his shirt gaped a little and at the angle David was sitting he could see a dark mark just under his Dad’s collarbone. 

David literally felt sick. “I don’t feel well,” he gasped and bolted away from the table, running for the bathroom. 

It didn’t make any sense to David. If his Dad was gay, why was he so rude and dismissive to David about his sexuality? _What a fucking hypocrite,_ David thought. _It’s okay for him, but not for me._ It made him feel rejected and sad and angry and confused all at the same time. He wanted to get away from this house; he needed to be somewhere else, somewhere his Dad wasn’t...but he also wanted an explanation. 

There answer was obvious, really.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. “Who is it?” David asked. 

“It’s me.” Jean. “Are you really sick or are you just mad again?”

“I’m definitely sick,” he told her through the door, thinking that it wasn’t far from the truth, even though he hadn’t actually thrown up. He thought fast. “I’ll probably be in here all night.”

Jean was quiet a moment. “Do you want me to bring you anything?” She asked uncertainly.

“No,” he said. “Just tell Dad that--” his voice cracked as he felt a lump in his throat. “Nevermind, don’t tell him anything.”

David listened at the door until he was sure Jean was gone. He slipped out of the bathroom stealthily, making sure he wasn’t seen, leaving the light and bathroom fan on as he locked the door from the inside and shut it behind him.

Back in Kurt’s room, he knew he had to move quickly. He shoved his clothes and all his things in his luggage as fast as he could and pulled out the card Erik had given him to make sure he still had it. He memorized the address just to be on the safe side but also put the card carefully in his pocket. 

He had never hitchhiked before, but there was a first time for everything, he thought grimly. And since he didn’t know how he would be able to live in the house of a man - of a _hypocrite_ \- who could be gay himself but not accept his gay son, David thought he might as well get used to figuring out how to do things for himself. 

David climbed out the window and started walking towards the freeway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was strange posting the angst chapter on today of all days, because I was in such a good mood! Marriage Equality FTW!! (June 26, 2015)


	8. Daly City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to split this chapter as it was getting a little long. There will be either one or two more chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in end notes

Charles watched David leave the table, confused. He'd known David was still upset, but when David agreed to come to dinner it seemed like maybe it wasn't that bad, giving Charles the opportunity to breathe a little easier and think about how exactly he was going to approach the conversation with David. He had felt David’s eyes on him a lot, during dinner, but every time Charles would look back, the boy’s eyes would slide away. Jean asked to be excused a moment after David left and Raven granted permission with a tight sound in her voice. Charles looked up at her in trepidation only to see her glaring at him and looking pointedly in the direction David had gone. Charles quickly looked away. 

He realized in his next bite of food why, exactly, he was dreading the conversation with David, and why he had been avoiding it for almost a year, (because he had not forgotten that David had brought it up before): because he felt it would be disingenuous to talk to his son about David’s sexuality when he wasn’t comfortable revealing his own orientation to his son. 

It was not a happy realization. He didn’t relish the idea of lying by omission, and certainly that fact would be relevant to a conversation about David coming out. Or would it? Was one under an obligation to reveal his own sexuality to his son?

Charles considered whether he even intended to act further on his attraction to men. He had never intended to do what he’d done with Erik, although admittedly he hadn’t done much to prevent it. But the experience with Erik had been...all-consuming, too-consuming, dammit; Charles had two children to raise. He wanted someone who could be a full partner to him, someone who could help him raise his children, and he thought perhaps it was important for Jean to have a female role model...also, he couldn't deny that it was a factor to him that pursuing his interest in men might make him less desirable to potential wives. 

And if he was going to be straight, going forward...he didn’t see the need to tell David that he had ever acted in any way to the contrary.

Charles had been eating slower and slower as he thought the matter through, almost unaware of his surroundings. When Kurt and Hank left the table, Charles and Raven were the only ones still sitting there. Raven didn’t seem angry anymore, she just seemed...profoundly disappointed. 

“Do I come out to him?” Charles asked softly, meeting her eyes, almost an excuse as to why he had been deliberating. Also, he found himself interested in what she would advise, although he had reached a conclusion in his own mind. His conclusion felt beige and boring but _safe_ , and wasn’t safety the most important thing to consider when one had children?

Raven blinked and looked at him as she considered and finally she sighed. “That’s a Charles question.”

Charles nodded, his decision cemented. He got up from the table and walked to the hall bathroom, the one in which David had clearly sequestered himself. It was the same bathroom Charles had hidden in earlier and he had a grimly humorous thought: _like father, like son._ In more ways than one, apparently. He knocked on the door gently, but there was no response. 

“He’s sick,” Jean said from behind Charles. She held her favorite stuffed animal, an orange and red bird called Phoenix, so close to her chest that if it had been a real animal it would have been suffocating. 

Charles knelt down in front of Jean. “Is he really sick?” he asked softly. 

Jean looked down. “I don’t know.” She was frowning, unhappy, and Charles couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen his daughter so unhappy, and it hurt his chest. Except maybe this was something he could help. 

“You’re not too old for a bedtime story, are you?” he asked her gently, brushing a long ginger hair behind her ear. 

Even though her head was tipped down, he saw the tiniest upward curve to the side of her lip. She shook her head, almost shyly. He kissed her forehead. “Go and get ready for bed, and then meet on the couch,” he told her, glancing again at the bathroom door. The bathroom door was in the direct line-of-sight of the couch - he would know when David came out of the bathroom. 

Charles looked over the bookshelf to find an appropriate book and found one called, “[No Matter What.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UwFcuLwSEs)” He sat in the couch and flipped through it and the theme seemed appropriate - more something David needed to hear than Jean, but it was a message worth giving to her, as well.

Jean came out a few minutes later. “You all ready for bed? Have you brushed your teeth?” he asked her with mock sternness. She nodded, seeming much happier than she had in the hallway already. 

“Will you do funny voices, daddy?” Jean asked him as she climbed into his lap. 

“Of course,” he said, grunting as she made herself comfortable. She was bigger than she used to be. 

Charles read the story to her, losing himself in the simple pleasure of making his daughter giggle and snuggle against him. He kept one eye on the bathroom door, but it never budged. Eventually he put Jean to bed in the spare room. He headed back towards the bathroom, hesitating. 

David had been in there at least ninety minutes at that point. He knocked and thought he heard some movement, but it was hard to be sure with the fan on. 

“Do you want me to get the air mattress for you?” 

Raven’s words made Charles jump; he hadn’t heard her coming down the hall. He turned around and saw her clearly ready for bed, wearing the a long sleepshirt, just like she had worn to bed since childhood. “No, no. I’ll just sleep on the couch. Where I can see this door.”

Raven frowned. “He’s been in there a while. We lost the key, but Hank can get in if he needs to. Do you want…?” She trailed off, uncertainly.

Charles hesitated. “I’ll--give him a little bit longer. I understand the need to--well. I’ll sit where I can see this door. Is Hank going to bed too?”

She shook her head. “He has some work stuff to catch up on in his office--and he has to work tomorrow, too. it will probably be a few hours before he comes to bed. I just can’t stay up late anymore like I used to,” she said, covering a yawn. 

“I’ll get Hank if David isn’t out soon,” Charles reassured Raven. She nodded sleepily and kissed him on the cheek and went to bed. 

Charles sat on the couch and stared at the bathroom door, willing it to open. 

He was asleep within fifteen minutes. 

**

It took a while to walk to the freeway, longer than David had thought it would. At least it wasn’t cold or particularly hot; he did have a faux-fur lined flannel in his backpack though in case it got colder. David thought as he walked. He had a vague idea that Daly City was west and south of where he was. He had ten dollars, which was better than nothing, although he hoped he wouldn’t have to spend that at all.

David reached the freeway on-ramp and looked back. He expected any minute for his Dad or Aunt Raven or probably both of them to pull up, furious, but that didn’t happen. He thought he should probably have a sign or something to tell people where he wanted to go but he didn’t have any way to make that, so he just stuck his thumb out anytime a car drove by him. Most drivers ignored him completely. A few people smiled at him apologetically before driving by. 

After about twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, he decided to start walking along the freeway. He could tell he was headed west because there was still a glow in the sky in that direction; also, the freeway signs indicated it. He trudged for at least two freeways exits while keeping far enough to the right that he wouldn’t be hit, but close enough to be visible. 

He didn’t feel bad for running away. He felt cool, actually, turning around and sticking his thumb out, walking backwards while he determined if a driver would stop, and then turning around again, continuously walking, when they invariably did not stop. He felt like James Dean.

David had been gone from his Aunt Raven’s house for about an hour when a car finally did stop. David heard the car slowing down and pulling to the side behind him. He couldn’t tell what kind of car it was from the headlights and he froze for a moment, thinking it might be his family. But the the driver opened the car door and beckoned him. 

His heart pounding, David half-jogged back to the car’s passenger door. The driver was a young man, and when David opened the door and sat down, he got a look at him and his eyes widened in surprise because, wow, he was _cute._ David just blinked at the blond young man, his mouth dry. 

“Hey,” the guy said, glancing at him with a quick grin. “I’m Alex.”

“Hey,” David said, hoping that the slight quaver in his voice wasn’t too obvious. He cleared his throat. “I’m David.”

“Cool. Where you going?”

“Daly City?” David said, suddenly panicked that Alex might be heading the opposite direction. 

“Well, I can get you as far as Vacaville,” Alex said. “There’s a truck stop there where you can probably find someone headed to Daly City - at least, that always worked for me back before I had a car.” He glanced at David as if to check to see if that was acceptable.

David relaxed a little. “Sounds good. Thank you.” 

They drove in silence for a time. David checked the time on his digital watch - just after 8:30pm. He could be to Erik’s house by 11pm, probably. He wondered how he would find the house itself - he had the card with the address, but that didn't help him actually find the house without a map. Probably someone familiar with the area could give him directions once he got to Daly City, maybe at at gas station.

“So what’s your story?”

David nearly jumped when Alex addressed him. He had been lost in thought. He blinked at Alex. “Um.” Alex probably wanted to know where he was going; why he was hitchhiking. David was nervous about telling the truth because so few people knew he was gay. Should David say he was gay? If Alex wasn’t, he might get disgusted and make David get out of his car. If he was...but...if Alex was gay too…

“That bad, huh?”

David tried to get his conversational feet under him. He remembered something his Dad had said once - something about Socrates. Turning everything into a question...since David wasn’t sure what he was comfortable saying about himself, that seemed like a good idea. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked carefully. 

Alex shrugged. “You’re what, fifteen, out here fairly late, hitchhiking--I figure something bad happened. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

David was inordinately pleased to be mistaken for fifteen. He thought culturing an air of mystery might make him seem even older. “Sorry. It’s--hard to talk about.” Well, that was true, anyway.

Alex nodded in understanding. Boldly, David asked, “So what’s your story?”

Alex exhaled. “My story. Huh. Well, right now I’m heading home from night school. Class usually goes til ten but I had to, uh, bring something to a friend. Run an errand, I mean. So I left at the break.”

“What are you studying?” David asked. 

“Car repair. It’s not, like, my dream job or anything, but I need something that...well, I need enough training that someone would overlook...I just got out of juvy a few months ago.”

“Oh,” David said softly, his eyebrows rising in surprise. He wasn’t sure if it was cool or scary that Alex had been in juvenile hall, but it did segue into something else David had been wondering. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Alex said, his eyes on the road. “I served eighteen months.”

David nodded and tried to think how he was supposed to react to something like that. 

“Most people want to know what I was in for,” Alex said, glancing at David with a smile.

David shrugged. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. “I stabbed my uncle with a steak knife, more than once, actually. Unfortunately he survived.”

David snapped his head around to stare at Alex with wide eyes. Alex sounded almost proud of it. He swallowed and eyed the door on his side. 

“He deserved it,” Alex added quietly after a moment. “He was molesting my little brother.” Alex glanced at David and then quickly away. “You remind me of him, a little.”

“Your brother, not your uncle, I hope,” David said before he thought too much about it. Fortunately Alex laughed. 

“Yes, my brother,” he clarified, grinning. His smile faded quickly, though. “My parents died five years ago - my uncle was our only relative. We moved in with him, and...I became aware that he was...you know, doing what he was to my brother, and I...let him have it.”

David’s jaw was open as he imagined that kind of life. What if Dad had died at the same time as Mom, and he’d had to live with a creepy uncle who had abused Jean? David didn’t know if he would have the nerve to attack someone with a knife...although it did make Alex seem more sympathetic.

“What...where is your brother now?” he said softly. 

“Well...long story short, he’s in foster care right now. His foster family is alright, but I’d rather he live with me. But the social worker says I need to prove that I can support both of us if I want to petition for custody, so...I’m working on that career.” Alex sighed, seeming suddenly despondent. 

David didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, although his heart ached for Alex and his brother. He hadn’t felt before that moment that he’d led a particularly privileged life - after all, his Mom had died and his Dad was apparently some kind of weird hybrid of bigot and hypocrite - but he realized that it looked pretty good next to Alex’s life.

A little after 9pm, Alex pulled up at a truck stop. “This is probably your best bet to catch a ride to Daly City,” he advised. 

David swallowed. There were many semi-trucks parked and a few people about - none of them looked particularly friendly. But Alex knew the area better than he did, and he said this was the best place. 

“Okay,” he said, putting his backpack back on. “Thanks, man.” He offered his hand to Alex to shake and the blond man took it with a small smile. 

“Good luck,” Alex said. 

“You too,” David said sincerely. 

He watched Alex drive away, and then looked around at where he was. Some people were eying him and they didn’t look particularly friendly. He wandered around the truck stop for a while, looking for someone who didn’t look too hostile, but after an hour of not speaking to anyone he started to feel a little desperate. He was going to have to make this happen. 

So he started asking everyone he saw if they were going to or through Daly City. Most said no. Some just said get lost, or fuck off. One greasy-looking guy said, “What’s in it for me?” followed by raucous laughter. David decided to take that as a no and moved on to someone else. 

It was almost midnight before he found a driver willing to take him. The man looked at David appraisingly. He was fat man with a baby face that he was very obviously trying to obfuscate with a beard. “I’m going through Daly City,” he said contemplatively. He looked around. “Are you by yourself?”

“Yeah,” David said, hoisting his backpack higher on his back. He had put on his flannel because it had gotten colder so fortunately the backpack was lighter. Asking him if he was alone seemed like an odd question, because clearly there was no one else around. “Just me.”

“Okay then,” the man said agreeably. “One time I agreed to give a guy a ride and found out he had a wife and baby stashed nearby and they all wanted a ride.”

“Oh,” David said, not sure what the man expected him to say to that. “It’s just me,” he repeated. 

“Alright then, you can climb in if you want. I’m just gonna grab a snack inside.”

David felt almost weak with relief. “Thank you!” The cab was higher up than David was used to but it wasn’t hard to climb inside. He put his backpack in the little space behind the bench seat, not seeing another out-of-the-way place for it.

A couple minutes later, the man came out of the truck stop and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’m Bill,” he said, looking at David expectantly. 

“David,” David said. 

“Well, David, there’s only one rule in my cab: no bad breath! So.” He laughed a little and pulled a tin box out of his pocket, opened it and offered it to David. 

David took one of the chalky mints. “Thank you,” he said awkwardly, putting it in his mouth. 

Bill beamed. “No, thank _you_! I can’t stand bad breath!”

They pulled out of the truck stop and David realized that the ‘mint’ actually tasted unpleasantly bitter. He was going to swallow it quickly but when he saw Bill turning his head away from David to check if he was clear before merging onto the freeway, he spit the mint into his hand instead. He awkwardly shoved it in his pocket, not wanting to drop it on the floor and leave evidence that he hadn’t eaten it as requested. 

“How old are you, David?” Bill asked, in a dreamy voice. 

David frowned and tried to look at the man out of the corner of his eye. “Seventeen.”

Bill tsked. “Come on now. You can tell me the truth; I’m not going to call your parents.”

David hesitated. Something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t even know why he’d lied. “Fourteen.”

Bill hummed. He didn’t seem mad about the lie. 

David looked outside through the passenger window and blinked a few times because he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Everything looked blurry, or blurrier than it should be. He also felt tired. Really tired. He struggled to keep his eyes open as Bill asked him, still in that dreamy voice, “Do you have a girlfriend, David?”

“No,” David said. His head kept falling forward and he pinched his thigh hard to try and stay awake. 

“So I guess you’re a virgin?”

David didn’t answer right away, because he was beginning to realize that him feeling this sleepy was not an accident. Fear shot through him even as his limbs felt heavier. 

“None of your business,” he mumbled, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. 

Bill looked over at him then, his eyes bright with amusement. “None of my business? Well, I guess not. There’s just something a little sweeter about the flower that has never been plucked.”

He reached over to pat David on the knee, twice, and then left his hand there. David pushed it off with his left hand, awkwardly. 

Bill hummed again. “Not yet, huh? We’ll just give you a little more time.”

He didn’t speak for a while and as much as he tried to fight it, David couldn’t help passing out. 

**

David jerked awake when a hand touched the bare flesh of his side. His eyes snapped open and saw Bill’s hairy face, way too close to his. Bill had unbuckled David's seatbelt and he seemed to be trying to reach around David's waist, under his shirt, to pull him closer to Bill. 

David lashed out with his left arm, which seemed to be weirdly slow to respond, but fortunately his knuckles snapped Bill in the nose hard enough that the man jerked back. Bill yelled in pain and clutched at David, his fingernails scraping David’s side, as David turned his body so that his feet were facing Bill and kicked as hard as he could, even though his legs were responding slowly, too. Bill grabbed David’s feet and ended up wrenching off his right shoe as David reached for the door handle behind his head. When he unexpectedly got the handle depressed on his first try, the door swung wide he was falling, outside, in the bracingly cold air. 

David caught the door handle with his right hand and almost didn’t fall but his hand couldn't keep the grip and then he did fall, face-first somehow, his knees and hands hitting gravel outside on the ground. He pushed himself up and started blindly running, despite not knowing where he was, despite that Bill had his right shoe and his backpack. His muscles trembled but worked for him, barely.

Everything was still blurry and every muscle felt like rubber but something inside David was screaming _get away!_ He ran a short ways, to the middle of the street, and then looked around. To his right side, down a short street, was the tall concrete wall that indicated the freeway; in the other direction was what looked like a residential neighborhood. It didn’t look like a particularly nice neighborhood but David wasn’t in a position to be picky. He ran toward the houses and fell after about ten feet when the world tipped crazily to the side. 

“Davey-boy,” Bill said behind him, in a sing-song voice, too close behind him, “Later you’ll have to remember that _you’re_ the one who decided to get rough.”

With another surge of adrenaline, David pushed himself up and lurched forward, away from Bill, trying to think, where could Bill not go? The man was fat; he didn’t seem to be running behind David, instead he was walking, seeming confident that David would have to stop running soon. 

David abruptly faced a wooden fence. It was fairly tall; Bill wouldn’t be able to jump it, for sure. It looked like it led to someone’s back yard. It was about five feet tall; well within David’s capability...usually. David tried ineffectually to jump up to get his arms on the fence, or swing a leg up, but it wasn’t working. He heard Bill laughing behind him and getting closer. The world was trying to go dim around the edges but David refused to give in and lurched around to the front of the house, holding onto the fence to help keep himself upright.

Then he saw it - a gap, in the fence to the side yard of the same house. It was probably no more than five or six inches but David was thin and knew he could squeeze through. He ran up to it and slid his body through - he almost panicked when he could get everything through except his head, but then he realized that if he just stood on his tiptoes he could get his head over the top of the fence, although he did get what felt like a nasty scrape under his chin. He stumbled backwards into the yard, falling flat on his belly on the grass and deciding to stay there for a moment, grateful that his flannel was a dark green and blue plaid, shrouded in darkness and keeping his eye on Bill through the fence gap. 

Bill stopped a few feet in front of the fence and muttered something David couldn’t hear. He walked out of sight around to the front of the house and David thought for a moment that he might wake up the homeowner and tell them his son had run away and was hiding in their backyard. The thought made David panic enough to look around and spot a flat horizontal board in the tree in the center of the small back yard - maybe it had been the beginning of a treehouse, or perhaps it was the remnants of a treehouse - the important thing is that David thought he could reach it. By concentrating on each movement of his limbs, and focusing only on climbing, he slowly got to the platform and collapsed. It was just big enough that if he lay flat diagonally, he hoped he couldn’t be seen. 

David just lay breathing as shallowly and quietly as he could for a minute. _If the homeowner comes back here, I’ll tell him the truth,_ David thought. Even if they didn’t believe him, he could ask them to call the cops...which any decent person would do, right? And the cops would call David’s dad and he would come get him. 

That train of thought calmed David down considerably, which unfortunately meant sleepiness started to take over again. His last thought before he passed out again is that he hoped Bill wouldn’t somehow get over the fence and find him.

**

_Charles was in the big bed in Erik’s tiny apartment, but he was with Gabby. They were lying in bed and talking, in the early morning, just catching each other up on their lives. Charles told her all about Erik, and she was neither surprised nor judgemental; she simply accepted it._

_“Where’s David?” she asked him, looking into his eyes. She looked like she did before she got sick, Charles thought, and immediately banished thoughts of her being sick. He didn’t want to focus on that. Not right now. Not when he had his wife in his arms again, finally...it had been so long._

_“You’re beautiful,” he told her, leaning up for a kiss. She turned her head, declining the kiss, and looked back at him solemnly, waiting for an answer._

_“He’s in the bathroom,” he told her, and the bathroom door was there, Raven and Hank’s hallway bathroom door, with the yellow light shining underneath, and the fan on, for some reason in Erik’s apartment. In dream logic it made sense._

_“He’s okay,” Charles told Gabby, even though she was scowling, he had so little time with her, he didn’t want to fight…_

_“He’s not okay,” she told him sharply. “He’s been in there too long. He’s _hurt_ , Charles, and it’s your fault.”_  
**

Charles snapped awake with a gasp. His eyes opened to see the bathroom door he had been dreaming about, the light and fan both still on. Charles didn’t have a clock nearby, but the sky that he could see outside through the picture window that overlooked the pool was mostly light blue, with scattered pink clouds.

Charles stood up and went to the bathroom door. “David,” he said sharply. There was no answer. He banged on the door. “ _David!_ ” 

There was no answer, just the rattling fan. He ran to Kurt’s bedroom, to look inside...there was nobody in there, not David or Kurt. He frowned and went back to the bathroom door. 

Had David been so upset that he would hurt himself?

“David!” Charles yelled, banging on the door in earnest, now. He slammed against it with his shoulder but it didn’t budge. 

“Charles, what’s wrong?” Raven came out of her bedroom, with Hank close behind her. 

“David - I had a dream - I think he’s hurt,” Charles gasped, terror gripping him as he realized this wasn’t a nightmare and it was possible his son could be lying on the floor of the bathroom, dying or already dead…

He couldn’t get enough air. He felt like a fish out of water, gasping for oxygen. Raven’s eyes widened and she led him to the couch. “Sit here,” she said firmly. “Hank will get the door open.”

“Raven, do you have a small mirror?” Hank asked. 

Raven squeezed Charles on the knee and hurried to get Hank a mirror. 

Sliding the mirror under the door, Hank observed, “He’s not leaning against the door.” He stood up and with one surprisingly powerful kick, the door jamb splintered and the door slammed open. 

Charles was impressed with Hank’s strength for a split second (he was such a mild-mannered nerd most of the time) but he ran to look inside as soon as the door was open. “He’s not here,” he said, shocked. He’d left then, at some point. 

“Maybe he’s hiding somewhere?” Raven suggested. “Kurt does that all the time. He likes to disappear into these little hiding places. In fact, I think he’s been sleeping in the attic all week.”

“Okay,” Charles said, grasping onto the theory will all his might. “So we look for him.”

“I know all of Kurt’s favorite spots; I’ll check them,” Raven said, hurrying out of the room.

While Raven and Hank looked for David, Jean came out of the guestroom, rubbing her eyes. “What’s happening?” she asked sleepily. 

Charles hesitated, but decided on the truth. “We don’t know where David is. I thought he was in the bathroom, but he’s not.”

Jean swallowed. She peeked in the bathroom and rubbed her eyes and started to cry. 

Charles knelt next to her. He wanted to say some platitude like “It will be okay,” but he really didn’t know if it would be. 

“It’s my fault!” She bawled suddenly. “I told him about…” suddenly shy, she bit her lip and lowered her head. 

Raven and Hank and Kurt came back to the living room just then. “We can’t find him,” Raven admitted breathlessly. 

Charles didn’t pay her any attention. “What did you tell David, Jean?” He asked her, urgently. 

She clearly didn’t want to answer, but after a moment she reluctantly poked Charles’ collarbone. “About your hickey.”

There was a shocked silence. Charles put his hand on his mouth and glanced at Raven, only to see her trading looks with her husband. “Why…” He cleared his throat. “Why...why would...my, um, hickey upset him?”

She frowned. “I don’t know,” she admitted, very distraught. She looked up at Charles and then at her Aunt Raven. “He wanted to talk to Erik.”

Charles and Raven made eye contact. It made too much sense. Of course he had gone to Erik, the one gay person he knew...whose address he had…

“Raven, do you have Erik’s card?” Charles asked Raven suddenly. 

“No, I gave it back to David, like you asked me to,” she said irritably. 

“Maybe he’s listed in the phonebook?” Charles said. 

“That’s a moot point,” Hank said. “We have to call the police. He may not ever get to Erik’s.”

“Hank!” Raven hissed. 

Charles jolted. “Yes, of course.” He looked at Raven, feeling like he was barely holding it together. “Raven, would you call them?”

She squeezed his shoulder on her way to do just that. “Yeah.”

Charles knelt down in front of Jean. “It’s not your fault, honey, okay?” 

Tears were still streaming down her face. “But--but--I said he should talk to Erik!”

“This is not your fault,” he reiterated firmly to Jean, holding her close. He didn’t say to her the next words he thought: _It’s mine._

**

David didn’t wake up so much as he became aware again. He was lying on a board in a tree, one shoe missing, the knees of his jeans torn and bloodied. He was cold, but fortunately it was summer and he was wearing his flannel, so mostly it was his knees and face that were cold. The sky was just starting to turn a lighter purple and as David pushed himself up into a sitting position, he winced as he realized his palms were abraded, too. He wondered why he hadn’t felt the pain from that last night when he’d climbed the tree. 

He looked around and took stock of his surroundings, since he was about ten feet off the ground anyway. There was another backyard and then a freeway behind him. To the side of the house there was a street, and across that street was gravel...the same gravel that David remembered falling on. He was happy that there was no semi-truck in his line of sight; Bill must have left. The house in front of him was still dark. David swallowed and thought about knocking on their door and asking if he could use their phone. He looked pretty beat up, and thought he might luck out...but they could be like Bill, too. He decided not to risk it. He looked around to see if he could see a freeway sign, anything to give him an indication of where he was...he squinted and in the distance he thought he could see a freeway sign that said “BART, next exit.”

He knew what BART was. That was the subway for the Bay Area. 

“New plan,” he said out loud. “Public transportation.” He checked his pocket for his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wallet and breathed a sigh of relief to discover he still had it and the ten dollar bill inside it.

Climbing down from the tree was painful; every handhold hurt, but he made it. He started walking in the direction that the freeway sign indicated the BART was, on the frontage road right next to the freeway wall. It was slow going; with only one shoe he limped a little and he had to be careful where he stepped because few times he almost stepped on broken glass. A few cars passed him, but he wasn’t going to accept a ride from anyone now. 

He passed a payphone and hesitated. He wanted to call his Dad, but he didn’t know Aunt Raven’s number. Not to mention he didn’t have any coins. 

He stood in front of the payphone for a minute trying to think of what he could do. He could call collect, but he didn’t know her number. He could call home, but nobody was there…

David felt tears coming to his eyes and he tried to breathe normally. He was tired and hurt and he wanted to go home and he was a long way from there. He missed his Dad...no. He missed his Mom. “C’mon David,” he told himself. “BART station.”

He kept trudging in the direction the freeway indicated, keeping his eye on the sign whenever possible - there were occasional breaks in the sound barrier wall between the street he was walking on and the freeway. He finally reached a traffic light at a busier street and saw the BART sign across the street, on the opposite corner. He felt like he had made progress. Phase one complete.

He took the stairs down into the station and looked at the route map. The only other transport map he’d ever dealt with was in New York, and he’d never actually been the person to navigate a route. He gaped at the map for a moment. All he could really figure out is that he was at a station called Lake Merritt; he wasn’t even sure what city he was in. 

The only other person at the station at that early hour was an African-American man who appeared to be homeless - he had a sleeping bag and another bag next to him. He looked up at David as he approached. David didn’t know what to say to him so he just smiled vaguely. 

He was staring at the route map when a man came up behind him. “Hola,” the man cheerfully. “Buenos dias, mijo, you look kinda beat up. You want some breakfast?”

“No thank you,” David said, turning away from the route map to look at the man. He had smooth skin and shoulder length black hair and looked far too clean for the station, wearing a nice beige suit.

“Oh, you sure? You want something else? You want something for the pain? A shower?”

David did want a shower, badly, but he wasn’t about to take another risk on a stranger. “I wanna go to Sacramento. Please leave me alone.”

The man in the suit grabbed his wrist and David jerked it back, his heart pounding. The man didn’t quite let go until suddenly the homeless man whom David had nearly forgotten about launched himself at the man in the suit with a snarl, shoving him backwards. 

“He said _no,_ Janos! Get the fuck out of here!”

Janos sneered at the black man before turning his back and jauntily walking away. He was at the base of the stairs when he called back, “Mijo, if you change your mind, come back here and I will find you.”

“Not happening, creep,” David muttered. 

The homeless man looked after Janos and shook his head. “Chickenhawks.”

“What?” David said.

The man jerked his head in the direction Janos head departed. “There’s a few guys like him, they come looking for kids they can get addicted to drugs and then pimp out.”

David’s eyes widened. “That's messed up,” he said. 

“Yeah man, shit’s fucked up.” He paused and then frowned at David. “But - I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but BART doesn’t go to Sacramento.”

“It doesn’t?” David’s hopes fell. “Shit.”

“There’s a Greyhound bus station about a mile from here,” the man said. “Costs about thirty dollars to get to Sacramento, I guess.”

David shook his head and looked down. “I don’t have it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” the man said sympathetically. “I’m Darwin, by the way.”

“David,” David said glumly. “Do you know--does the BART go to - Daly City?”

“Actually, yeah,” Darwin said. “It’s easy from here, too, you just take one train, the Dublin/Pleasanton line. The fare is $3.50, and you can buy a ticket at that machine there.” He indicated a machine on the wall that looked like an ATM.

David blinked at Darwin, hardly daring to believe the good news. “Really? This isn’t--some kind of trick?”

Darwin looked at him, his face registered surprise and a soft concern. “No, man, it’s not a trick.”

David limped over to the machine Darwin had indicated. It was fairly simple to follow the directions and buy the ticket; fortunately the machine accepted his ten dollar bill on the second try. 

David grabbed the ticket and change and walked back over to Darwin. “Where do I catch the train?” he asked. 

“Right here. It comes every twenty minutes and it's been a little bit since the last one was here, so it should be here soon.”

David nodded and suddenly realized he had a fistful of bills that Darwin could probably use. “Do you want my change?” he blurted. 

Darwin looked surprised but held out his hand. David put all the change into it, retaining only the ticket. Darwin hesitated and handed David one dollar bill and the two quarters back, keeping only the five dollar bill for himself. “You might need to make a call,” he said in explanation. 

“Oh. Right.” David accepted the bill and coins. The train pulled up just then and Darwin nodded at it. 

“Thank you,” David said as he limped on to the train. 

“Good luck,” Darwin called. “And thank _you_.”

The train took about a half-hour to reach Daly City. David got out at the stop and hesitated. The sun was up, but it was still early. He looked around the station to see if there was a map of the neighborhood and there was, but he couldn’t find “Price Street” (Erik’s street, according to the card) anywhere. 

David wanted to cry again until he spotted a payphone. He didn’t have Aunt Raven’s number, but he did have Erik’s, and the two quarters in his pocket would buy him three minutes.

**

The police officer arrived to take a report and get a picture of David within fifteen minutes of being called. Charles didn’t know if that was supposed to be a good response time or not, but it took far too long as far as he was concerned. 

The officer asked a lot of questions that Charles answered without difficulty. David was fourteen, about 5’4”, brown hair and hazel eyes, last seen wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and a black digital watch. Yes, he was upset; yes, they’d had a fight. Charles felt a little uneasy answering what the fight had been about, but reluctantly said, “He told me he was gay - I didn’t react well.”

The officer grunted. “I wouldn’t either, if my kid told me that.”

Charles frowned and blinked and suddenly had a little less faith in the police. He glanced at Raven to see that she was frowning, too. 

“Do you know where he might be going?”

“Daly City,” Charles said. 

“Who or what is in Daly City?” The officer asked, raising his head to look at Charles. 

Charles hesitated. He wished he just had Erik’s home number; he was hesitant to send police to the man’s front door, although he couldn’t even say why that was the case. 

The phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Hank said. 

“Could be David,” Raven said, making eye contact with Charles. 

They waited tensely for Hank to answer. “It’s Erik; David’s with him,” Hank called, and Charles ran to the phone in the kitchen that Hank had answered. 

Charles picked up the receiver. “Erik?” he said. 

“Hi. Um, Just to clarify - David isn’t with me just yet. He called me from the Daly City BART station and I’m leaving to get him as soon as we get off the phone. I just wanted to call you first.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Charles said into the phone, breathlessly. He felt like he might fall over. “Is he okay?”

Erik hesitated. “I don’t know. He didn’t--I haven’t seen him yet. Do you want me to call you when I get back?”

“Yes,” Charles said, and then immediately said, “Wait, no. I need to come pick him up. I need to directions to--” he was going to say ‘your house’ and then it occurred to him that Erik might not want him at his house. 

But Erik was already continuing. “Of course. Do you have something to write with?”

Charles snapped his fingers at Raven and mimed a pen and she handed him one with a piece of paper. “Now I do, yes.”

Erik gave him directions to what was presumably his house in Daly City. “Okay,” Charles breathed. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

The officer looked at Charles. “Do you want to continue, or are you happy that he’s at your friend’s house?”

 _He’s not my friend,_ Charles thought, but out loud, he said, “You can cancel your report. I’m going to get my son.”

**

“Erik, baby, you have a phone call. Someone called David.”

Erik mushed his face harder into the pillow. “David who?” he mumbled. He had at least three Davids in his little black book, although he couldn’t imagine one of them calling him this early for any reason. 

“Um..." There was a moment of low murmuring. "He says his name is David Haller-Xavier? Sounds young.”

Erik’s eyes snapped open. Xavier? David. It all clicked into place. “Yes, okay, I’ll be right there.”

Erik rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen phone. “David?” he said into the mouthpiece, frowning in confusion.

David was clearly very distressed, and seemed unable to finish a thought. “Erik! Hi. Um, I’m--sorry, I know that you--I mean, I made a mistake and I wish I could call my--but I can’t--”

“Slow down,” Erik said gently, but firmly. “Are you okay?”

There was a choked sound that could have been either a laugh or a sob. “Mostly? Um. I’m at the Daly City BART station and, um, well, I was planning to come see you but it all seems so stupid now and I--”

“You’re--at the Daly City BART station?” Erik asked, confused. “Are you by yourself?”

“Yes,” David said. He exhaled audibly. “I ran away.”

Erik dropped the phone and fumbled to get it back up to his ear. “Jesus Christ. David--from Sacramento?”

“Yeah,” David said. “I’m really sorry to bug you, but if you could--”

“I’ll come get you right away,” Erik said firmly. He had nothing on his agenda that day anyway - he had been planning to do some yardwork to make up for not having been around the house for the past month, but that would keep. “I need to call your Dad though, okay? What’s his number?”

“I don’t know,” David said miserably. “He’s at Aunt Raven’s house and I don’t know her number.” 

He sounded like he was about to cry, so Erik said, “Okay, okay,” in his most soothing voice. “What’s Raven’s last name? Is it Xavier?”

“She uses Xavier and McCoy,” David said. 

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.” Erik hung up and dialed 411. “Do you have a listing for Raven McCoy in Sacramento?”

After trying a few different combinations, the operator informed Erik that she did have a listing for Hank and Raven McCoy. Erik thanked the operator profusely, and was glad that not everyone thought like him: his own number was unlisted.  
**

Erik pulled up at the BART station and was shocked when he saw David walking towards him: two scabbed-over, bloodied knees; one shoe missing; and a big scrape under his chin. His white T-shirt was smudged gray and brown with dirt. 

“My god, what happened to you?” Erik exclaimed, standing up as David got closer. David walked up to Erik and stood in front of him, blinking. Erik didn’t know if it was appropriate but he was moved to hug David and he figured it was the right thing to do when the boy clung to him like he was a life preserver. 

After a minute, he led David around to the passenger side of the car and helped him get inside.  
Erik’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t begin to imagine how Charles would feel about seeing David this way - Erik had only met the kid once before and he felt like his heart was breaking. 

“Do you need to go to a hospital?” Erik asked him, as gently as he could. 

David frowned. “No, I just have scraped knees.” 

“Nobody - hurt you?”

David started to shake his head and then thought about it. He lifted his shirt a little on the side facing Erik and Erik saw scrapes that looked like they were from fingernails. They were raised welts, but hadn’t broken the skin. “He only - that.”

“Who?” Erik said. 

“A truck driver. His name was--Bill. Could we--I just--I don’t want to talk about it right now if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Erik said. He drove to his house, his mind going a million miles a minute. He deliberately kept all his questions to himself, although he dearly wanted some identifying information about that truck so he could hunt and kill ‘Bill’. 

“My dad’s a hypocrite,” David said abruptly, and bitterly.

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so Erik said, “How so?”

“Because he’s gay and he doesn’t want me to be.”

It didn’t entirely surprise Erik to hear that, considering what he did know, but he thought it would be best for him not confirm or deny anything. “So I guess you tried talking to him again and it didn’t go well?”

“He laughed at me,” David said bitterly. “Well, sarcastic laugh, like ‘haha very funny’. And then he told me I was too young to know.”

“Well,” Erik said with a sigh. “He’s wrong about that.” 

“I know,” David said bitterly. “He also told me not to read your column anymore, you know.”

Erik pressed his lips together and didn’t comment. He thought David had probably been too young to read it to begin with, but he couldn’t deny that the comment stung.

David was studying his profile, though. “I saw the hickey. On my Dad.”

Which was exactly what Charles didn’t want. Erik couldn’t help wincing, and he knew David saw.

Far from being happy to have his suspicions confirmed, David sighed let his head roll against the headrest. “I wish people would quit lying to me,” he said sullenly. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“I have never lied to you,” Erik said steadily. “I don’t tell what isn’t mine to tell.” He glanced at David. “Like I didn’t tell anyone you are gay.”

David looked out the window. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just--” he sighed. “I just want to go home,” he said in a whisper. 

Erik reached over to touch his knee reassuringly and David jerked for a moment. Erik picked his hand up immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his cheeks turning red. Had the boy misinterpreted his gesture?

“No, it’s just--” David sighed. “That’s what that creepy truck driver did.”

Erik gritted his teeth and they didn’t speak again until they were at his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted sexual assault of a minor. Not successful, but some readers may find it triggering.
> 
> Also, I acknowledge that "No Matter What" is an anachronism (the book wasn't published until 2008), and I apologize. Everything else about the story is as close to historically accurate as I can manage.


	9. Who Erik Loves

_Friday afternoon, after Charles left the restaurant._

“God _dammit_ , Emma!”

Despite Erik’s undeniably angry face and intimidating stance, Emma looked up at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression. “Really, Erik? I’ve done essentially the same thing for half a dozen of your boytoys; you never had a problem with it before. In fact, I’ve pretended to be your wife, at your request, more than once. How is this different?”

Erik was still breathing hard, but she could tell her words were getting through to him because he scowled more fiercely. “You didn’t have to be so--cruel. Charles is...different.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Is he? Well, first of all, you didn’t say anything that indicated that to _me_ , sugar.”

Erik was frowning as he tried to recall what he had said about Charles. Not much, he was sure. He kept his cards close to his chest. 

“Second,” Emma continued, “Is he _really_ different? I’ve been your agent for eight years, Erik, even through your creative dry spells--”

“Oh, you mean, like the time I was serving my country?” Erik interrupted sarcastically. 

Emma paused to acknowledge his words with a slight inclination of her head. “The point is, you told me about your relationship--" she paused to find the right word, "-- _idiosyncrasies_ years ago, and you have never wavered in your resolve...except...now? Is that what’s happening?”

Erik sat down and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

A tiny frown marred Emma’s brow as she contemplated Erik, blinking a few times. “Do you want me to apologize to him?” she asked gently. 

Erik chuckled bitterly. “Apologize for telling the truth? I don’t think that will fix anything. Let’s just talk about what we need to talk about here so I can go home...there's someone I need to talk to.”

**

_Saturday morning, around 11am_

Charles parked Raven’s Honda in front of the unassuming little green house in Daly City. It looked terribly domestic and homey, not the kind of house he had pictured Erik living in at all. 

He got out and tried not to feel nervous as he approached the front door. He was here for his son and even though the thought of meeting Erik’s partner made him feel slightly ill, he would bear it if he had to. 

Erik opened the door very soon after he knocked. “Hi,” he said, looking at Charles as if he was surprised. 

Charles suddenly realized that he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn to brunch the day before - he hadn’t even showered. He felt disgusting. It didn’t help that Erik looked like he’d showered and shaved and was barefoot and gorgeous wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt and his hair was rumpled in a very disarmingly attractive and freshly-fucked way. 

Maybe he _was_ freshly-fucked. Charles didn’t want to think about that. 

Charles had been standing there too long without saying anything. He inhaled sharply when he realized that. “Is David…?”

“Right this way,” Erik said, indicating for Charles to come inside. _Please don’t introduce me, please don’t introduce me,_ Charles chanted in head, afraid to see whatever no-doubt gorgeous man Erik lived with around the corner. Or maybe he was a very old man? Charles' imagination started to run away with him and he shook his head sharply to clear it.

“We washed his clothes - they should be almost dry,” Erik said. Charles acknowledged the statement with a humming sound, afraid to say more.

Erik led him into the back yard, where David was sitting at a patio table with wet hair, barefoot and eating a sandwich, wearing borrowed clothes that were obviously far too big for him. 

“David!” Charles cried and rushed over to his son. He got on his knees and hugged the boy and wasn’t surprised to find that he was crying. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

David hugged him back, hard enough to surprise Charles. “Hi Dad. I’m--okay.”

“Okay?” Charles asked in alarm. He noticed in a vague kind of way that Erik had gone back inside the house. “What does that mean? Are you hurt? Did someone--” His voice stopped in his throat. 

David bit his lip and did not meet Charles’ eyes. “Um. You can, uh, sit down if you want.” Charles realized he was still kneeling next to David and he moved somewhat reluctantly to take the chair closest to David.

Charles had a horrible sinking feeling that his son was hurt worse than he appeared, but he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to talk about it. “Do you--I mean--if you’d rather not--tell…”

“No, it’s okay.” David seemed older, somehow; more detached. Charles’ heart felt heavy with the realization that his little boy really wasn’t a little boy anymore. “My knees are scraped up, and my hands a little bit, and this--” he lifted his chin and pointed to a nasty scrape that Charles hadn’t seen. “And, uh--” he lifted the side of his too-big shirt. “This.”

Aside from the last injury, nothing David had shown him seemed much outside the realm of normal rambunctious teenager injury. Charles stared at the four parallel welts on David’s side and his blood ran cold. “Are those from - fingernails?”

David dropped the shirt. “Yeah.” He blinked at the table for a moment and then his breathing started hitching. Charles moved his chair closer and wrapped his arms around his son while the boy cried and leaned against him and Charles cried silent tears of sympathy. He stroked David’s shoulder for a few minutes until the boy's breathing evened out and he gently pulled away. 

Charles desperately wanted reassurance that David hadn’t been hurt worse than that, but he also didn’t want David to feel pressured into talking about it if he wasn’t ready. The trust between the two of them had been severely shaken, and Charles knew it was his responsibility to rectify that. Even though he’d previously resolved that he wasn’t going to tell David about his own sexual orientation, Charles looked at the traumatized boy sitting next to him and his gut instinct told him he did not want to and could not deceive his son; he couldn’t lie by omission, not if he wanted to rebuild trust. David needed more than that from him.

“David,” Charles began. “I fucked up.”

David blinked and looked at Charles with wide eyes. Charles realized that it might be one of the few times in his life that David had heard him swear. He’d probably seen Charles cry dozens of times - it was a family joke, how easily Charles teared up - but swearing wasn’t something Charles did lightly (as far as his kids knew).

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you told me you were gay,” he said steadily. “Not a year ago, and not last night. I love you no matter who you love. I just--” No excuses, he told himself, and bit his tongue instead of saying what he had been going to say. 

“I know,” David said softly, not looking at Charles. “I know you love me anyway. I just felt--like you didn’t take me seriously. Like you didn’t want to believe it.”

“I didn’t,” Charles admitted. “There are a lot more challenges facing gay people in this world than straight people. I just--I want you to have a good life.” 

“Like you?” David said, and he looked at Charles with eyes suddenly gone cold. “You want me to pretend I’m something I’m not? Did you--” David swallowed and teared up again. “Did you ever love Mom?” he choked out. 

Charles’ mouth opened in surprise and shock. “Oh, David! I loved your mother very, very much. I think about her every day; I dreamed about her this morning--”

“Did she know?” David said, angrily wiping tears off his face. “Did you--cheat on her?”

“She knew,” Charles said softly, sniffing. He took David’s hand. “I never cheated on her, David, not once. David...I like--that is, I’m attracted to--both men and women. I’m bisexual.”

David blinked at his father, a frown on his face. “You’re...bi? Really?” he looked astounded and confused, as if the idea had not occurred to him. 

Charles held his son’s gaze with some difficulty. He wanted to look away; it was hard to talk about something so personal to him and still feel like a parent. “I didn’t…” he exhaled and finally did allow himself to look away, trying to decide how much to say and what needed to be said. “One of the reasons I thought maybe you were too young to know that you were gay is because I was in college before I had any...self-knowledge, I guess, of being attracted to men. And it was only very recently - um, this week, that I, um, did. Um. Anything about it.”

Charles knew he was red and he watched as a blush stole across David’s features as he comprehended what Charles was saying. “Ew,” David said. “I don’t want to think about you...doing that.”

Charles choked out a laugh at that. “Well, I don’t want to think about you doing _that_ either, to be honest. That was probably another reason I wanted to put off this conversation.”

“You believe me, though? Now?” David asked, looking at Charles. 

Charles nodded, moving his son’s hair out of his eyes. “I believe you.”

David smiled, timidly, and leaned against his father. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Charles said. 

They just sat there leaned against each other for a few minutes before David said, “I really like Erik.”

“Well, he’s a little old for you,” Charles said, trying to be light, although he couldn’t help that his body went a little tense at the mention of Erik’s name. 

“Not like--ew. _EW_. No. I mean--for you.”

“Well, Erik is already with someone,” Charles told his son, trying to keep regret out of his voice. Then he winced as he realized how that would look to his son...since he’d all-but admitted to having a sexual relationship with Erik. He told himself David had to know, anyway, though, since David had been in Erik’s house.

“He is?” David pulled away from Charles and frowned. “Since yesterday?”

“What?” Charles gave David a puzzled look. “You haven’t met him?”

David shook his head slowly, looking very concerned. “No.”

“Well,” Charles said briskly, “Let’s talk about it later? We have a three-hour car ride to sort this out.”

“Okay,” David said slowly, still seeming confused. “I need to get my clothes, though, and give Erik his clothes back.”

Charles tried not to feel impatient. “Of course,” he said. David got up and went into the house like he’d done it a dozen times before. Charles stood up but hung back, feeling distinctly awkward. He didn’t want to go into the house unless he had to. 

Erik came out to the backyard a moment later, alone. Charles felt his heart speed up and he felt uncomfortably trapped. The other man was holding a plastic baggy with a small white square in it that he silently handed to Charles.

“This was in David’s pants pocket,” Erik said in a low voice. “It seems to what the trucker gave David to make him sleepy.”

Charles’s jaw was open again as he numbly accepted the baggy from Erik. “What trucker? He didn’t--David didn’t--”

“Aside from the scratch on his side, David said he didn’t touch him,” Erik said evenly. “I’m...not sure how much he’s told you, but David thought he was drugged with a breath mint. He spit it out and put it in his pocket so maybe he didn’t get a full dose and that was why he was able to get away.”

Charles focused on breathing evenly, but he could feel that he was starting to hyperventilate. Erik looked at him with alarm and reached an arm out, but Charles jerked away before Erik could touch him. “No,” he said, but when a hurt look flashed across Erik’s face, he said, “I just need to sit down for a moment.”

“Water?” Erik asked, concern on his features. 

“Yes,” Charles said, although really he just needed a break from Erik’s presence. 

Charles was already breathing easier when Erik came back with a glass of water. 

“Thank you,” Charles said. “Thank you for picking up David and for calling me. We really need to go as soon as possible, though. Is David inside?”

“Yes,” Erik said. He stood and offered Charles his hand, which Charles ignored. “I’d like you to meet someone,” Erik said. 

Charles’ heart leaped into his throat. They were both walking into the house via the kitchen back door; he realized this was unavoidable. He steeled himself. “Fine.”

“Mama,” Erik said, and a tiny woman with gray-streaked hair appeared in the kitchen. “Mama, this is Charles. Charles, this is my mother, Edie.”

“Ah, Charles, I have heard so much about you!” The woman exclaimed, reaching up to kiss Charles in the cheek. “My son is a big fat idiot, you know.”

“Aw, Mama, you know I’m not fat,” Erik said affectionately to the woman. 

Charles blinked. He had been expecting to meet someone else. He glanced around the living and dining room areas, but all he saw was David sitting at a wooden table in the dining room and happily eating what looked like pie. 

“Your son is such sweet boy,” Edie said to Charles in a low voice. “He reminds me of Erik when he was that age. Never stopped eating, but he was thin as a rail!”

“Says the woman who just called me fat,” Erik said teasingly to his mother, and she waved away his comment with a smile. 

Charles was trying to think how to phrase, ‘Where’s your partner?’ without sounding too weird about it, when he was distracted by noticing the tattooed numbers on Edie’s forearm. He froze with his eyes wide. He knew the significance of that and he quickly looked away, not sure how he was supposed to react. 

“Are you hungry?” Edie said. “I have some cold cuts, or peanut butter and jelly--do you like pastrami? I think we have some leftover Chinese, or I could make you some Macaroni and cheese.”

“Mama,” Erik said with a chuckle, giving the old woman a hug. “You’re overwhelming him. I think he expected to meet someone else.”

“He’s not here, then?” Charles asked. His eyes abruptly slid to Edie. She had to know Erik was gay, didn’t she?

“It’s okay, Mama knows I’m gay,” Erik said with a soft smile at his mother. 

“That’s not the problem,” Edie said, crossing her arms. “He’s smart in the head, but he’s dumb in the heart." She poked Erik firmly in the chest. "Takes after me that way.”

Erik’s smile faded a little and he glanced at Charles. “Could you stay a little bit longer? I’d hoped we could talk some more.”

“Please! Stay! Eat!” Edie urged Charles. She nodded towards David in the dining room, her arms full of food items she had just grabbed out of the refrigerator. “Besides, his clothes need another ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” Charles said quietly. He followed Erik back outside to the table in the yard, where they sat across from each other. 

“I’m not in a relationship,” Erik said quietly. “When you asked me if I lived with someone I loved, I answered yes, because I live with my mother.”

Charles pressed his lips together. He tried to ignore the tiny flare of hope that rose in him and focused on the flare of anger instead. “You knew what I thought,” he said. 

Erik nodded, not breaking eye contact with Charles. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” he said. Charles raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “What you and I--had, this past week...honestly that’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Charles tried to decide if he believed Erik or not. “That’s very sad,” he said finally, steadily. 

Erik looked at Charles consideringly, a slight frown on his face. “Charles," he said, then paused. Suddenly he looked up. "Have you ever let a bad experience get in the way of something that you know would make you happy?”

Charles hesitated. “Didn’t--wait. Didn’t I say that to you?”

“You did,” Erik agreed, looking at the table again. “My mother has had a very hard life. She was in Auschwitz and when she got out she met my father, and--well, he was--is--a horrible person. She was the sole surviving heir to the family fortune - what was left of it; that’s another whole story, to be honest - anyway, he spent it all mostly on horse racing and drugs and then left her for a younger woman after three years.”

“That’s terrible,” Charles said sincerely. He wondered why Erik was telling him this, but interrupting to ask that seemed callous.

“He came back two years later, and did it again. Almost the exact same thing. He came back for the last time when I was twelve.” Erik met Charles' eyes then. “I almost killed him.”

“Oh, Erik,” Charles said, feeling sympathy for the man, despite everything. 

“Mama had other gentleman friends over the years,” Erik said. He smiled a little, briefly. “Her words, not mine. Everyone of them was piece of shit who cheated on her. I came to the conclusion that monogamy is not a viable relationship model.” He paused. “I went away to summer camp when I was fourteen, and when I came back, I found out my mother had been dating someone while I was gone - and that he had run off with a younger woman and her car.

“When I asked her why she kept dating at all, she told me she was lonely. So I promised I would never leave her.” Erik smiled at Charles again, a sad smile. “She didn’t believe me, although she told me she appreciated the thought, but it made me that much more determined to prove her wrong. I haven’t always been able to keep my promise as well as I would like to. I was in the Army Reserves when Iraq invaded Kuwait and I got orders to go…” He sighed heavily. “Well, you’ve heard some of that story. That was a clusterfuck in so many ways. The point is...I love my mother, I like living with her, and I had made her a promise. I’ve never met anyone who made me want to consider living anywhere else...until I met you.”

Charles had had his hand over his mouth for most of Erik’s monologue. He realized Erik expected him to say something, now. He inhaled. “That’s--”

Just then, Edie emerged from the house, carrying a tray loaded with food. Her voice was cheerful. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so there’s a little bit of everything here. Would you like something to drink?”

Charles blinked at the huge tray loaded with food. Erik smiled a little a Charles’ reaction. “Um. Erik got me water. Thank you?”

“Thank you, Mama,” Erik said softly. “We’re almost done talking out here.” 

She smiled and bent down to kiss Erik on the cheek. “You take your time, Schatz.”

She went back inside and Charles picked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Your mother seems like a wonderful woman,” he said honestly. 

Erik smiled. “I’m so glad you could meet her.”

“Erik,” Charles began, putting down the sandwich after only two bites. It was good, but he needed to not be distracted in saying what he had to. “Did you tell me all of that in order to explain to me your behavior over the past week?”

Erik clearly didn’t know what to say to that, or was looking for the right words. “I was hoping…” He licked his lips. “I misled you,” he said. “And then when you confronted me, I...handled it very poorly. I apologize, and I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me, for both of those...transgressions.”

Charles looked at Erik for a moment. “I recently handled an important conversation very poorly myself,” he admitted. “But, Erik--yesterday you seemed to assume that I wanted to trap you in a relationship, when all I wanted was to be treated with respect. Making a bet with your agent about whether you could fuck me, lying to me about your living situation...these are not actions that show respect.”

Erik closed his eyes and nodded, acknowledging what Charles was saying. “I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed, then continued. “I did those things before I knew...you. I _do_ respect you. I don’t know if that makes it any better, but it’s the truth.”

Charles nodded. “To be fair, you were...very good to me in most other ways,” he said softly. Erik looked up at him, hope flaring in his eyes. “I've never been good at holding a grudge,” Charles said after a moment, looking at Erik. “So yes; I forgive you.” 

A huge smile split Erik’s face and he stood up. He walked over to Charles and kneeled next to him, leaning in for a kiss. 

Charles turned his head away. “Erik,” he said as gently as he could. “Please - sit back down.”

The expression on Erik’s face went from joy to confusion. He stood up and sat back down in his chair, looking at Charles. 

“I do forgive you, but…” Charles held his hands open and then closed them, looking for the words. “I don’t know if there’s a nice way to say this, but I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who is capable of what you have proven yourself capable of.”

Erik looked at him with a partially open mouth, until he realized it and snapped his mouth shut. “I see.”

“For what it’s worth, I do think you should pursue a relationship with somebody else,” Charles said, somewhat briskly. “It’s worth it, if you can find the right person.”

“Why not you?” Erik asked bluntly, his eyes green and intense. 

_Because I couldn’t take it if you hurt me again._ “Because I have children to consider,” Charles said, smiling softly. “And I’m not saying that they don’t like you, or that you don’t like them - it’s just that, for their sake, I need stability.” Charles inhaled and tried not to tear up yet again. “But I am glad to have the chance to tell you that this past week - despite how it ended, Erik, I truly enjoyed myself. You challenged me...you changed me. I’m never going to forget that.”

Erik swallowed and looked down at the tray of food, blinking fiercely. “Can we be friends?” He asked. The words sounded young and almost pathetic. 

Charles considered Erik and thought how strange it was that their roles were reversed. Erik had been so sexually experienced, guiding Charles through what sex with a man was like...and yet he seemed to be almost a child when it came to interpersonal relationships. “I would like that,” he said finally.

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter!! It was getting too unwieldy so I split it. Last Chapter will probably be posted tomorrow or Friday.


	10. New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is not the last chapter, either. There was too much to try and condense into one chapter! So there will be one more chapter after this. Probably. :D (Will be posted Monday or Tuesday)

In all the chaos surrounding David running away, the Xavier family had missed their flight home. Erik simply called Emma and bullied her into arranging that her agency's private plane be available to fly Charles, David and Jean from Sacramento to New York, which Charles agreed to as long as Emma would not personally be present. Erik wanted to be on the plane too, but he also didn’t want to push his luck, so he stayed home. Since Erik had also collected Charles’ luggage and belongings from the tiny apartment Friday after brunch and he gave those to Charles before he left. They exchanged cards, as well, at Erik’s subtle insistence.

Edie sent David and Charles off with a lot of food, and hinted loudly that she was looking forward to meeting Jean. Charles just smiled sadly and hugged her goodbye - he didn’t think that was very likely, after all. He and Erik parted with a handshake, although David chose to hug Erik tightly. 

A couple hours after take-off, after the novelty of being in a private plane had worn off and after Jean had fallen asleep, David told Charles the story of his journey from Sacramento to Daly City. Charles was glad when he heard the story that David hadn't told him in the car after all - he probably would have driven off the road. Although parts of the story terrified Charles after the fact, David told the story with gusto - it seemed much more exciting when he wasn't actually living it. 

"So did you say Erik has a partner?" David asked, after he had finished telling his story. 

Charles inhaled, not expecting the inquiry. "No. I was--mistaken about that. Erik is single."

"So are you and he going to..." David trailed off and looked at his father raised eyebrows. On his young face the expression was adorable. 

"Erik and I have decided to be friends," Charles said in a measured voice. 

David frowned. "Friends with benefits?"

Charles shook his head, wondering where his son had heard that term. "Just regular friends."

"So what does that mean? Is he going to visit us?"

"We haven't discussed that," Charles said. He didn't tell his son that saying 'let's be friends' after a break-up was essentially meaningless. He expected that they would both be civil if he ever ran into Erik again someday, but that was all it really meant to him.

David was quiet a moment. "You didn't want to be his--boyfriend? Is that the right word?"

_How should I know what the right word is; I'm newer to this than you are,_ Charles wanted to say, but didn't. "I like Erik and he likes me. But it takes more than that to make a relationship work. I mean, for one thing, we live on different sides of the country," Charles pointed out. He didn't feel bad that he wasn't telling David the entire story; there were some things one didn't need to share with one's children. 

David looked skeptical but nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I guess so. Can I be his friend? And can I still read his column?"

Charles smiled, a little sadly. "Yes, to both."

A week and a day after Charles and his children were back home in New York, on a Sunday evening, Erik called Charles. 

"Is this a good time?" Erik asked. He sounded nervous.

"Yes, it's as good as time as any," Charles said. "What can I do for you?" He assumed he’d left something in Daly City, because if Erik was calling to plead his case again...

"I just called to talk," Erik said. "How, um, how was the trip back?"

Just to talk? "Oh it was fine, fine," Charles said. "Thank you again for arranging the plane."

"It was the least I could do," Erik said. There was a pause. "I hope you and David got a chance to talk about everything that happened to him."

"We did," Charles said. "On the plane. I'm going to have the lab at my college analyze the breath mint to see what it is, to see if David should expect any long-term effects. I thought that information might be helpful to California law enforcement to help find the guy, so he doesn't hurt other children." Charles felt a little like he was babbling, but he also realized Erik was paying close attention.

"I have Logan's number, if you wanted to talk to him about that," Erik said. "I don't know what the appropriate law enforcement entity is, but he seems like a good place to start."

"I'll keep that in mind once the lab results come back," Charles said. There was another awkward pause in the conversation. 

"My mother wanted to share her matzo ball soup recipe with David," Erik said. "Shall I--mail it to the same address that the car picked you up from in New York?"

"Yes, that's fine," Charles said. 

There was a long pause. 

"How have you been?" Charles finally said. 

"I've been good," Erik said. "I've been doing a lot of work around the yard, and finally eating home cooked meals again."

Charles couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm afraid I was a disappointment as a spouse in that regard."

"Oh, well, you...made up for it in other ways."

Charles coughed and realized he was blushing even though there was no one there to see. "Well. Anyway. I should probably be going."

"Okay," Erik said quickly. "Nice talking to you, Charles."

"You too," Charles said softly and then hung up the phone. 

**

Erik flopped heavily on the couch next to the rocking chair in which his mother was knitting. "What is it, leibling?" She asked affectionately.

"I just had the most awkward phone conversation ever with Charles," Erik said glumly. "I want to be his friend but I don't know how to be that for him, especially with him being so far away."

"Is that what you really want?" Edie asked calmly, watching her knitting.

"Yes. Well. I would _like_ to be more than friends with Charles, but he isn't interested in that, and I just--" he sighed. "I guess I just don't want to let him leave my life completely."

Edie looked at him contemplatively. "What's the first thing you liked about Charles?" she asked. 

"His eyes," Erik responded, smiling, thinking about the first time Charles had spoken to him. 

"No, schmuck, not his physical features," Edie said reproachfully. "What made you _feel_ something?"

Erik thought over the week they'd spent together. "When he talked about his kids," he said softly, the realization surprising him. 

Edie beamed. "You're a good boy, Erik. Be good to his children and the rest will follow."

"How do I do that? When they're in New York?"

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Can you find out their birthdays?"

**

Even though it was hard to do, Erik called Charles again the next Sunday evening. He managed to find out that David would be turning fifteen in about a month and a half but Jean wasn't having a birthday again until May. They chatted a little bit about Charles' job and about the scandalous anti-semitic remark Reverend Shaw had made on Nightline that week, as well as how Jean was nervous about her swimming class. "She told me she's never going in the water unless I will be there to save her," Charles said with a chuckle. 

Erik felt that conversation went better. 

The next Friday, David called Erik. 

"I have some questions about how two guys would--do certain things. Like sex things," David clarified. Erik hesitated. He wouldn't talk to David without his parent's consent, of course, but he wondered if he should even ask. After deliberating for a moment, he told David the truth: 

"I would be happy to answer your questions, David, but I don't want to do that without Charles' permission."

David paused. "Well...can you ask him for me?"

Well, it was a reason to talk to Charles. "Absolutely."

Erik called Charles that Sunday evening, per the pattern he had begun to develop. "David has some questions for me about sex. I told him I would be happy to answer them but I needed for you to know about it and consent to it."

"Oh, thank goodness," Charles breathed. "I'm been thinking he wants _me_ to answer questions about things that I really have very little experience with! Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Erik said with a chuckle. He called David back the next afternoon while Charles was at work and Erik answered all David's questions and volunteered a lot of helpful information too.

Since all David said when Charles asked if he'd spoken to Erik was, "Yup!" Charles brought it up immediately that Sunday when Erik called him. 

"You emphasized the importance of safe sex?" Charles said anxiously. "And he's not--he's not actually _having_ sex, is he?"

"I thought you might ask that," Erik said. "So I told David, before I answered any questions, that I would answer any questions _you_ have for me about what he and I discussed. He told me that 'his interest is mostly hypothetical, right now'. That's a quote. He is definitely your son."

Charles laughed and felt both relieved and grateful to Erik. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Honestly, I should probably get the same crash course from you."

There was a pause. 

"I'm sorry," Charles said, not knowing exactly what Erik was thinking, but feeling he had somehow crossed a line. "I--shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine," Erik said, clearing his throat. "And, just so you know, I would happy to answer any questions you have as well."

"Um, well, thank you," Charles said, and quickly changed the subject. 

They talked on a weekly basis for a few more weeks after that. Erik would always call Sunday evenings, and he would always begin with asking if it was a good time to talk. Charles began to look forward to Erik’s calls. The Sunday before David's birthday, Erik asked if Charles would allow him to take David to a Pearl Jam concert to celebrate his birthday.

"The concert is a week after his actual birthday," Erik said apologetically. "But I will be in town to speak on Larry King the day before, and he mentioned that he liked that band. I thought I might take him if you've no objections."

Charles actually hated that band. "Do I have to go?" He said, half-laughing. He assumed that Erik was looking for an excuse to get close to Charles, so he didn't know how well it would go over with Erik that Charles didn't want to go.

"Ah, no, in fact, I can only get two tickets so if you did want to go, I would give you mine," Erik said with an apologetic chuckle. 

"Well, if you want to take him, that sounds alright," Charles said cautiously. He thought Erik might want to see him the night before...or perhaps he expected Charles to wait up late for him?

The night of the concert arrived, and Charles sent David to the front door without him. He watched Erik on Larry King Live that night debating the new Don't Ask, Don't Tell military policy (looking unfairly gorgeous, of course) and agonized over whether he should greet Erik at the door or not when he brought David home. Finally he decided he would, but when David got home, Erik was nowhere to be seen. 

"He walked me into the lobby and then left," David said, yawning, when questioned. 

"He didn't...say anything about me?" Charles asked, frowning. He hadn't realized how it sounded until David gave him a very amused look.

"No, do you want me to pass him a note and ask him?" David said, teasingly. 

"That's not what I--" Charles started to say, and then cut himself off. He kissed David firmly on the forehead and hoped that his blush wasn't too obvious. "I hope you enjoyed the concert. Go to bed; it's late."

Charles had trouble getting to sleep that night. He had been sure for over a month that Erik acting like a friend to him was a ploy to get closer - so why hadn't he at least tried to see Charles? Was Erik really just genuinely interested in friendship?

And if he was...why did that idea bother Charles so much? 

The one thing neither Charles nor Erik had addressed in any of their phone calls was other partners or potential partners for each other...in fact, that had been Charles' primary evidence that Erik was trying to be more than Charles' friend. Charles resolved to change that the next time he spoke to Erik, because that’s what friends do, right?

After they chatted a little about the concert (and Erik admitted he might be getting a little too old for rock concerts) Charles said, "You haven't said - have you been seeing anyone?"

"Um. No, I have been busy researching and writing my next book, and um...haven't really thought about it," Erik said. In fact, he had really just lost interest in his old lifestyle; having sex just to get laid had lost a lot of its appeal after Charles left. Erik had been through phases of this, in the past; months at a time when he chose to stay home with his mother over going out on the prowl - but it had been over a month and Erik still felt no desire to fuck a stranger. 

It was downright odd.

"Logan seems like a really good guy," Charles continued. "He's obviously attracted to you - maybe you should go out with him? A real date, not just - whatever you did last time."

"You really think so?" Erik said. "That wouldn't - bother you?"

"Not at all," Charles said firmly. He hoped it was true. He felt a little bad in a way he couldn't quite articulate, until he realized that it should be acceptable for him to talk about his own love life, too. “I hooked up with a man at a club,” he blurted out. 

There was silence for a moment.

“I, uh, well, good for you. I thought you were going to be straight from now on,” Erik said, “I’m glad you are not afraid of exploring your options.” Charles couldn't tell if Erik's voice really sounded somewhat strained or if he was imagining that.

“All we did was kiss,” Charles said a moment later, wondering why he felt he had to say that. “It was, um, going to be more, but I...uh, got really paranoid about safe sex and got cold feet.”

Erik paused and then laughed. “Well, better safe than sorry,” he said. His voice was carefully even when he asked, “Are you going to see him again?”

“No,” Charles said. “I think he was...disappointed in me.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Erik said gallantly. 

**

The date with Logan did not go as Erik expected. He found himself talking incessantly about Charles, and after about an hour Logan clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You need a friend more than a fuck, bub. And that’s fine.”

“You mean Charles?” Erik asked, confused. 

Logan chuckled. “I mean _me._ Which like I said, is fine, because it means I can smoke without feeling guilty about having cigar breath.”

With sex off the table, Erik found it really easy to spend time with Logan. They started hanging out together more often, just to have beers and share stories. Erik told Logan everything David had told him about the truck driver who had assaulted David, and Logan looked thoughtful and said he would look into it. 

The next Sunday, when Erik called Charles, Charles cleared his throat and asked how the date with Logan had gone. “Oh, it went great! Well--I mean we decided to just be friends, but we’ve hung out a few times since then.”

Charles was quiet a moment. “Really,” he said, his voice frosty. 

Erik frowned into his phone. “I’m not lying, Charles.”

“Good, because you don’t need to.”

“Good, because I’m not!”

Charles wasn’t available the next Sunday when Erik called and he tried not to be too upset. What had he done wrong? He had been honest about Logan. If fact, he was determined not to lie to Charles again because that had caused all the problems in the first place. Erik wondered if he shouldn’t call Charles anymore. The thought hurt him but he wasn’t sure that trying to be friends was working out.

**

"I don't know if being Charles' friend is working," Erik told his mother. "He didn't believe me that Logan and I are just friends."

"Maybe it's not working because you actually trying to be more than his friend?" Edie said.

"I have been a perfect gentlemen!" Erik protested. "I didn't even try to see him when I took David to the concert. It was too late; a visit would have been--presumptuous."

"Is that so?" Edie said thoughtfully. "And then he told you you should date Logan?"

"Yes, the next day," Erik confirmed. 

Edie smiled at Erik. "He will come around. Give him a little time."

The next Sunday, to Erik's surprise, for the first time, Charles called _Erik_. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Logan,” Charles evenly. “You have no reason to lie to me, and I...enjoy talking to you. I didn't mean to cause strife between us.”

Erik felt lighter immediately, until Charles' next words. "Actually, I'm glad to be able to tell you that I finally worked up the nerve to ask out a woman I've been interested in for quite a while after we got off the phone last time. We've gone out twice, actually, and...it's going very well. Our third date will be this Saturday night."

“Moira is pretty much perfect for me,” Charles continued, seeming not to notice that each word was like tiny knife stabbing Erik in the heart. “The only thing that might be a dealbreaker is that I don’t know is if she can accept that I’m bisexual. So I’ve decided to tell her this Friday night; if she can accept that, I expect we’ll get quite serious.”

“Oh, this Friday?” Erik said. His mouth was doing things his brain didn’t approve of, but he couldn’t help it. “That’s too bad. I have a--thing, in New York, on Saturday. Since I’m going to be in Manhattan, I thought maybe we could meet Friday night?"

It was technically a lie. Erk bit his lip anxiously. 

“Hmm,” Charles said. “Could we meet Saturday morning, for coffee, perhaps?"

So Charles could see Moira Friday night? Not if Erik could help it. “Unfortunately my, ah, schedule will me prevent me from being available during that day - and I’ll be flying home early on Sunday."

“Well, it _would_ be nice to see you,” Charles said. “I suppose I could reschedule with Moira.”

Erik did a silent victory dance.

“I’m sure David and Jean would like to see you too,” Charles continued blithely. 

Erik stopped moving. That wasn’t what he had envisioned exactly, but he realized that he liked the idea. “Yes...it would be great to see them.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner?” Charles said. “The kids will be very excited.”

Erik smiled so big that it made his cheeks ache. “Yes. Yes! That sounds great.” 

**

Erik called Emma immediately after he got off the phone with Charles. "Emma," Erik said intensely. "I need a reason to be in New York this Saturday. I need an event, something!"

"You were just in New York, Erik, what, three weeks ago?" She exclaimed. "What could possibly be so important that you need to go back?"

"I just need a real reason to go, so that I didn't just lie to Charles about needing to be there," Erik said, pacing and tangling the phone cord irretrievably. His mother would be cross with him about that. 

Emm paused and laughed in disbelief. "Of course this is about Charles. Erik, if you already lied to him, creating a reason to be there after the fact doesn't negate the lie."

"It does a little bit," Erik mumbled. 

"You are a piece of work," Emma said, and it was impossible to tell if that was criticism or admiration. She sighed. "So you want me to pull an event out of thin air, in less than a week's time. You're lucky I'm brilliant, because I do actually have an idea. Be sure to pack your tuxedo.”

**

Charles would have probably thrown the flyer away, or at least he would have buried it in a stack of things to be dealt with later, if it hadn't been for the fact that he saw Erik's face on it. He paused and picked up the piece of paper curiously. 

_BACHELOR AND BACHELORETTE AUCTION,_ the flyer read. _WIN A DATE WITH ERIK LEHNSHERR AND OTHER CELEBRITIES!_ And then in smaller print underneath, _a joint benefit for AIDS and cancer research._

Charles quickly scanned the rest of the page. The auction was that Saturday. _So that's why he's in New York,_ Charles thought. He didn't know quite how to feel about it. He knew usually these 'bid for a date' events were harmless, but considering what had happened when Erik had won Charles at a similar auction, Charles felt there was something meaningful about it. 

“Kind of funny,” he said out loud. Erik was going to come over for dinner at the Xavier’s the night before the auction...so he could be free for his ‘date’ Saturday evening, no doubt. He wondered if Erik did these kinds of events a lot and if he usually hooked up with the men who won him - or who he won. The thought that Charles was just part of a pattern was an unpleasant one, so he put the auction flyer back in the ‘mail to be sorted’ bin and put it out of his mind. 

**

Charles answered the door and forced himself to smile and act normally when he saw Erik. Erik had always been good-looking, but standing at Charles’ door, freshly shaved and wearing dark blue jeans and a black turtleneck under a brown leather bomber jacket, he looked like a model, or a movie star. Charles gaped at him a few seconds before his mouth could remember how to speak. 

“Wow, you look like a spy!” Jean piped up behind Charles. 

Erik directed his gaze behind Charles. “Thank you, Jean. That's a good thing, I hope?” His eyes were amused as she nodded vigorously. His gaze travelled back to Charles as if drawn by magnetism. “You’re looking very well,” he said softly, leaning forward to brush a dry kiss against Charles' cheek. “I like the haircut.”

Charles touched his hair self-consciously. “Thank you. You--yes. Yes, please come in.”

Erik smiled and started to walk inside when he was nearly bowled over by David, wearing an apron, running up to him and giving him a fierce hug. “Erik! How are you? How’s Edie?”

“She’s well,” Erik said with a soft smile. “She sends her love to all of you.”

“Even me?” Jean said, with big eyes.

“Especially you,” Erik said, smiling at Jean. “Because she didn’t get a chance to feed you.” Jean smiled back. 

“I gotta get back to the kitchen,” David said. “They’d starve if it wasn’t for me.” He rolled his eyes as he said that, but it was clear that he also took pride in being the family cook. David shot quick looks at both his father and Erik and tugged on Jean’s shirt. “Come wash the lettuce.”

Jean pouted but allowed David to drag her away. 

“Would you like a drink?” Charles asked. “Scotch is my weakness, but I also have beer and wine and well, there’s not a lot I don’t have.” He waved in an embarrassed manner at the full bar on the far side of the dining room.

“You have a lovely home,” Erik said, and it was true, although what really impressed him was the size. So far he had seen a foyer, formal living room, chef’s kitchen and a large dining room with a full bar...and that didn’t include any of the upstairs. In Manhattan, that kind of square footage was pricey, and he could only conclude that either Charles had inherited the house or he was far wealthier than Erik had suspected. But he was getting distracted; Charles had offered him a drink. Erik eyed the bar curiously. “May I?”

“By all means,” Charles said, as Erik walked around and into the bar. It was well and fully-stocked, complete with a small sink, stainless steel shaker and tool set, and even a mini-fridge underneath. 

“Gabby and I used to entertain a lot,” Charles said with a nostalgic smile. “We haven’t really had a party since she passed away.” His smile faded and Erik wanted to take away his pain.

“I used to be a bartender,” Erik said, expertly gathering what he needed to make a martini, once he had determined all the ingredients were present. “Apparently I look like a spy tonight, so having a martini feels appropriate.” He smiled at Charles. 

“I thought making martinis was hard,” Charles said, sitting at a bar stool on the other side of the counter from Erik. 

Erik shrugged. “Nothing’s hard once you know how to do it. Do you want one?”

“I’ll stick with scotch, thanks.” Charles watched as Erik made the martini. When Erik started shaking it, Charles wished he was wearing a short-sleeve shirt so he could see Erik’s arms. The thought made him blush a little and he quickly sipped his scotch. “When were you a bartender?” he asked. 

“While I was in college and for a few years after that,” Erik said, still focused on his task. “It was a great way to meet guys who weren’t interested in anything serious and helped me pay bills at the same time.”

Charles had a lot of follow-up questions, but he didn’t how many of them were appropriate with his kids in the adjoining room. He settled on, “why did you stop?”

Erik poured the liquid into a martini glass and added an olive. “It’s hard work. Constant loud music, being groped frequently, late nights every night...by the end, around 1982, I was drinking a lot and I had headaches all the time. That’s around the time a lot of my friends started to get these mysterious illnesses and the community found about about AIDS and the shit hit the fan. I felt bad enough physically that I thought I probably had it, too. But, apparently I was just in poor health.” Erik took a sip of his drink. “Anyway. Fortunately, I was getting more work as a freelance journalist around that time, although not enough to quit my job if I hadn’t joined the army reserves.”

“Did you grow up in Daly City?” Charles asked. He was feeling a pleasant glow from the alcohol and was enjoying watching and talking to Erik. 

“From about the time I was twelve years old, yeah. Before that--” he smiled. “Before that we lived here, actually. In Brooklyn. We left - well, I told you a little bit about what happened with my father. We needed to get as far away from him as possible. We packed everything up and drove cross-country and stayed with friends until Mama found a job.”

Charles just gazed at Erik, processing everything he said, one finger idly playing with his lip. Erik was making another drink for some reason while he sipped his martini. 

“Is there anything else you would like to know?” Erik asked, smiling, his eyes briefly meeting Charles’. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charles said, suddenly feeling like he had been interrogating Erik. “I didn’t mean--”

Erik cut him off with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “Honestly. I feel very comfortable talking to you. That was an honest question.” He finished the drink he was making by adding a maraschino cherry to it. 

“Well, actually--” Charles started to say when Jean appeared. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Jean said, clambering up onto the barstool next to Charles. 

Erik smiled at her. “Good timing! I was just finishing making you a drink.”

Jean’s eyes got wide as Charles’ eyebrows went up until he recalled that he had not seen Erik put any alcohol into the cocktail. “For me?” she said in a high-pitched voice, looking to her father for permission. 

“It’s not a grown-up drink,” Charles assured her with a smile. 

She looked at the tall cherry-adorned glass with pink swirling down into clear bubbly liquid. “It’s really pretty,” she said appreciatively. 

Erik put a straw in it for her. “It’s called a Shirley Temple,” he told her with a wink. “If you like it, I’ll give you the recipe.”

She sipped it and smiled delightedly. “It’s really yummy! Thank you Erik! I want to show David!”

“Climb down first, and I’ll hand it to you,” Charles advised. “Walk slowly, you don’t want to spill!”

“It’s a plastic glass,” Erik murmured as they watched Jean walking to the kitchen and holding her drink with exaggerated care. 

“I know,” Charles responded at the same volume. “Gabby and I bought them together.”

Erik was leaning on the bar and he was close enough to kiss, to smell...and he smelled delicious, some deliberate but subtle cologne that seemed to enhance his natural scent. 

“I was wondering something else,” Charles said, finding to his embarrassment that his gaze had settled on Erik’s lips. 

“Yes, Charles?” Erik replied in a low voice, his eyes roving Charles’ face. 

Charles wanted to kiss Erik right then. They were close enough that he could, and he felt that Erik was receptive. Instead he took a deep breath and a sip of his scotch. “How old were you when you realized you were gay?” he said, looking very deliberately only at Erik’s eyes. 

If Erik was disappointed, he hid it well. “I knew for sure when I was thirteen,” he said. “But I’d known something was different since I was probably ten or eleven.”

“That’s so _young_ ,” Charles said, surprised. Although really, it was almost the same as what David had told him. Charles had just thought that would be an exception rather than a rule.

“Do you think so?” Erik said. “I think that’s when puberty begins for many people, if not most, and that is when the awareness of sexuality starts.”

“I was in college,” Charles said, “Before I acknowledged that I was attracted to men, I mean. Maybe I had some inklings in high school, but there were plenty of girls I liked, so any thoughts of guys were easy to...I don’t know, push aside.”

“Maybe it’s different for you because you’re bisexual?” Erik suggested. 

“Maybe.” Charles thought a moment, sipping his scotch. “Who else is bisexual?” He asked abruptly. 

“Um.” Erik also sipped his drink while he thought about that. “I’ve met a few men who are married to women but sleep with men on the side?”

Charles’ made a face. “That’s what David thought of me. I could never do that.”

“I know you couldn’t,” Erik said simply. He paused for a moment, smiling softly at Charles. “To be honest, there’s no real...bisexual icon to point at. Maybe Madonna? But she’s never described herself as bisexual, at least not that I’m aware. She’s been photographed doing undeniably sexual things with women, but it’s hard to know if that’s because it’s her sexuality or just for the sensationalistic value.”

“And it’s different for men, isn’t it?” Charles said. His shook his head in frustration. “There are many people who would consider me gay since I’ve had sex with a man, now, despite the fact that every one of my other sex partners was female.” He looked up at Erik. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with being gay. I just wish--that there was a model of bisexuals that existed that wasn’t ‘cheaters’ or ‘whores who will sleep with anyone’.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Erik said sympathetically, even as he realized he may have been guilty previously of putting some people into those mental boxes. But Charles was neither of those things.

Jean came out of the kitchen. “David said dinner’s ready and we should all sit down,” she said breathlessly. She still clutched the tall plastic vessel in her hand, but there was only about an inch of liquid left in it. 

**

Dinner was penne pasta in a spicy arrabiata sauce that David made sure everyone knew was made from scratch. Charles and Erik and even Jean were lavish with their compliments and David preened at every one. There was also a green salad and garlic bread and chocolate pudding for dessert and after he had eaten his fill Erik was comfortably full in the way he only ever was when his mother cooked for him. 

After dinner, they played cards for about forty-five minutes until Jean started yawning. “Looks like it’s time for bed,” Charles observed. 

“I’ll make sure she gets to bed,” David said confidently. “You two go and have fun.”

Charles bit back a smile. His son could not have been more obvious. “We’re not going out,” Charles said firmly. “Although, Erik, if you would like, we can retire to the library.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow,” Erik said easily. “I’d be happy to stay a little longer.”

**

“So you have a library, too?” Erik said. The library was the first room Erik had seen that was upstairs. It had tall ceilings lined with bookshelves and a balcony to one side. There were two overstuffed chairs and a small loveseat in the room as well as a small table with a chess set. 

“I do,” Charles confirmed. “There are also five bedrooms in total, including the master suite. Would you like another drink?” Charles walked over to an ornate wooden cabinet that turned out to be filled with liquor. 

“No thank you,” Erik said. “You know, I had no idea you were so well-off.” He felt like Charles’ obvious wealth was the elephant in the room and he couldn’t continue to not address it.

Charles chuckled as he poured himself another scotch. “Oh, I know,” he said, giving Erik a wicked grin. “That’s why you offered me an ‘all-expense paid’ seven-day vacation in San Francisco.”

“So you could have left anytime you wanted,” Erik said, contemplatively. 

Charles sat down in the chair opposite Erik. “Of course. You didn’t think you were keeping me there against my will, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Erik said. “And of course I would have paid if you’d wanted to leave. It’s just--it would have been easy for you. I didn’t realize quite how easy.”

Charles stared off into space for a moment. “It was not easy to leave, at all, actually.”

Erik didn’t know what to that and he cast his eyes around the room, looking for another topic of conversation before spying the chess set. “Do you play?” he asked Charles, indicating the board.

“I do,” Charles said. “I haven’t played...in years, but yes, let’s.”

Charles was feeling more and more aroused by Erik as the evening went on. Erik defeated Charles quite handily and proposed a second game, to which Charles readily agreed, even though he really just wanted to feel Erik’s long fingers on his skin and to taste his skin again. He had licked his lips raw, thinking about it. Charles felt warm and had unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt, but Erik had not seemed to notice. 

Charles was starting to feel frustrated. He wanted Erik, dammit, the man had to see that. He had read Charles like a book for the week they stayed together in San Francisco. After Erik defeated Charles for the third time, though, he looked at his watch. “I should probably be going,” he said. He sounded regretful.

“You don’t have to,” Charles breathed, looking at Erik and licking his lips before he realized what he was doing and sucked his tongue inside his mouth. 

Erik looked at Charles and his eyes darkened for a moment before he closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake. “I do,” he said. He started to stand, but Charles stood first, and leaned over Erik’s chair with one hand on either of the armrests.

“I want you,” Charles said simply, leaning forward for a kiss. Erik allowed it, for a moment, but Charles’ lips opened, he pulled back. 

“I don’t want this,” Erik said, his eyes honest and regretful. “I don’t you want to resent me. I don’t want you to feel bad about it in the morning. I don’t want you to tell me we can’t be friends because we can’t control ourselves around each other.” 

Charles took a step back, trying to put his thoughts in order. There was something inaccurate in what Erik was saying, some false assumption, but the room was spinning a little and Charles was having trouble thinking past the disappointment that he would not get to have Erik’s cock in his mouth tonight. Erik stood up and Charles numbly followed him to the door. 

“I had a wonderful time this evening,” Erik murmured, once they had reached the front door. “Thank you for the dinner and drinks and games and conversation.”

“Anytime,” Charles mumbled, and he thought Erik probably thought that was just a thing people said, but in that moment Charles meant it wholeheartedly. 

“I’ll call you before I leave town,” Erik murmured into his ear as he kissed Charles on the cheek and it was all Charles could do not to clutch his shoulders and tell him to stay and fuck all your reasons to the contrary. 

**  
David was distinctly disappointed in Charles the next morning, but he was deigning to make them French toast anyway. “Where’s Erik?” he said, rather bluntly, in Charles’ opinion. 

“At his hotel, I imagine,” Charles said. “He left around 1am.” David twisted to look at him with an expectant expression and Charles sighed. “Don’t even ask the question, because I’m not going to answer it.”

“What question?” Jean piped up. 

“If Daddy kissed Erik,” David said, facing the stove again. 

Jean gave her father a scandalized look. “Did he give you another hickey?”

Charles couldn’t help laughing. “No, he didn’t. Erik and I are just friends. Can we please change the subject?”

David sighed. “Fine,” he said, with every ounce of dramatic resignation he could put into the syllable, which was quite a bit. “Hey, did I get a postcard with a French toast recipe from Edie?”

“I’ll check,” Charles said, going to the mail pile. The first thing his eyes landed on was the flyer about the Bachelor auction. He paused on that, mostly because Erik looked so damn gorgeous in the picture. 

He didn’t know David was looking over his shoulder. “Hey, what’s that?” David said curiously. 

Charles had the strangest urge to hide the flyer, even though he had no reason to do so. “Um.”

Jean padded over in her slippers and peered at the flyer. “What’s a Bachelor Aook-shun?”

“Auction,” David said with authority. “And it’s where you buy someone for a night and force them to have a date with you.”

“That’s not exactly--” Charles started to say.

“So Erik is going to be...for sale for the night? Well, for rent,” Jean said amending her statement as she tried to put it in terms that made sense to her. “Are you going to rent him, Daddy?”

Charles rubbed his forehead. “I...don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.” He had been worrying about who would win Erik that night...bidding on Erik himself hadn’t really occurred to him. 

“He won you in an auction, didn’t he, Dad?” David asked, giving a curious look to Charles. “Isn’t that how you met?” 

“How do you know that?” Charles asked, frowning.

“Aunt Raven,” Jean chirped. 

“Shouldn’t you return the favor? Oh, shit,” David added immediately as he noticed his French toast was beginning to burn.

“Language,” Charles said absentmindedly. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe this wasn’t a coincidence, how he been auctioned off to Erik and now Erik was going to be auctioned off. Had Erik planned this? But he hadn’t even dropped any hints about it. Surely he would have said something to Charles? Unless he was intentionally hiding it from Charles? 

And anyway, Erik had turned Charles down the night before. So...that was it, then. He just wanted to be friends.

Charles stomach twisted unpleasantly and he realized _he_ didn’t want that. Erik had been patient and honest with him. He was good to Charles’ children. He tried dating someone else, at Charles’ insistence, and it hadn’t worked out. Charles realized he couldn’t stand the thought of another person having even a fake date with Erik. He remembered Erik’s words from the night before. _I don’t you want to resent me. I don’t want you to feel bad about it in the morning. I don’t want you to tell me we can’t be friends because we can’t control ourselves around each other._ Maybe he hadn’t said those things because he wasn’t interested...maybe it had all been because Charles had been drunk. 

Charles froze as he considered that thought. After all, Erik had similarly refused to kiss Charles in San Francisco when he’d been drunk. 

“I will bid on him,” Charles decided. “If, David, you don’t mind staying home with your sister this evening.” The thought made him a little nervous but David was fifteen now and Charles had a pager. “You have my pager number, right?”

“It’s only posted everywhere,” David said, rolling his eyes. “ _And_ , I memorized it. And you know I memorized Aunt Raven’s phone number too.”

“Alright,” Charles said, relenting. “Well. I guess I will go and bid. At least it’s for a good cause.”

“You better win him,” David said, almost sternly. “Otherwise, there’s no point.”

Jean jumped up and down, clapping her hands, just as the smoke alarm went off.

**


	11. Make your bid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still not the last chapter!! This is the story that just won't end!! However, I am reasonably sure that the next chapter will be the last. I can't imagine it won't be, but of course I've thought that before. Trying to tie up all those loose ends...
> 
> Unfortunately I will be traveling for the next week and the next update may not happen for a week or so (I _might_ be able to do it by Friday or Saturday but probably not.

The auction flyer stated ‘black tie optional’ which, because of his socialite upbringing, Charles knew to interpret as ‘tuxedo’. He was a few minutes late to the 6pm start time, unfortunately, but he wasn’t too worried because he didn’t imagine that a bachelor as sexy as Erik Lehnsherr would be the first one to be auctioned off, and there were probably speeches or some such things beforehand anyway...he hoped. 

The auction was in the ballroom of a hotel called ‘The Greymalkin.’ Charles had never been there before, although it wasn’t far from his apartment at all. Charles handed the valet his keys and walked in quickly, looking around for a sign to direct him to the appropriate ballroom, but couldn’t find one. He asked the concierge and the man got a strange look on his face as he directed Charles to take the elevator to the twentieth floor.

Charles thanked the man and hurried to the elevator. He followed the concierge’s directions to last door on the end of the hall, but something seemed amiss - there was nobody else about and very little noise. The door to the room was mostly closed, only open a crack. 

Charles cautiously pushed the door open and saw a very large ballroom that was entirely empty and unlit. His eyes swept across the dark room from right to left, adjusting to the light level, and then he noticed that just to the left of where he’d entered, there was a balcony with a view of the city, and on that balcony--

“Charles?” 

Erik was standing on the balcony, wearing a tuxedo, facing Charles. There was enough orange glow from the setting sun to his left that Erik’s hair glowed like fire and only the left side of his face was illuminated.

Even only half-lit, he looked so handsome that Charles could barely breathe. 

Erik squinted and Charles realized he had not responded. He took a few steps towards Erik and just onto the balcony. “Where’s the--what--what is this?” Charles asked in confusion. Where was the crowd, the stage, the lights?

Erik closed the distance between them and stopped a few feet in front of Charles. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said slowly, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

Charles pulled the folded-up flyer out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Erik. “I’m here for this?” he said uncertainly. 

Erik quickly scanned the paper and his mouth fell open and he started laughing incredulously before he shook his head. “Emma,” he said. “I asked her--well. I thought I was here for a photo shoot.”

“Well, I came here to bid on--” Charles took the flyer back from Erik and read off of it “--Chris Hardwick and Jenny McCarthy from MTV’s _Singled Out_.” 

“Chris Hardwick _and_ Jenny McCarthy?” Erik said, his lips quirking with amusement. 

“Well. You know I’m a greedy bisexual.”

Erik smiled wide at Charles’ joke and took a step closer. He gazed into Charles’ eyes for a moment before his gaze dropped to Charles’ lips. “I really want to kiss you,” he breathed.

“You’d better,” Charles responded, his voice thick with emotion.

It was a soft press of lips, a gentle reunion, unhurried.

“You didn’t want to kiss me last night,” Charles murmured against Erik’s lips.

“You were drunk last night,” Erik breathed back, running his hands down Charles’ back. "And I..." Charles put his lips on Erik’s even as the man tried to speak. Erik was having trouble saying something, but Charles was more interested in getting the kisses he’d been denied the night before. Erik deliberately pulled away and touched his forehead to Charles’. “Wait,” he breathed, his eyes closed. “Before we--before this--I need to confess something.”

Charles pulled away carefully. “Confess?” There was curiosity and a touch of fear in his eyes. 

“I told myself I would never do it again, but I...lied to you,” Erik said, his eyes sad, moving on Charles’ face. “When I told you I had a--thing, today, in New York, I didn’t.”

Charles expression went from slightly afraid to slightly puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

“When you told me about your girlfriend, I just...I couldn’t…” Erik trailed off and pressed his lips together in consternation. “I felt like I needed to see you. I know I didn’t have a right to, but--”

“Girlfriend?” Charles interrupted. His eyes widened slightly and he swallowed as he realized. “Oh. _Oh_. Erik, I...I’m not--I don’t---” Charles knew how pink his face must be as he tried to tell Erik. “I wasn’t telling you the truth about Moira,” he blurted out finally. “I mean, I’m sure I never said _girlfriend,_ but still...we haven't actually gone out at all.”

Erik’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “What?”

“I wanted to...I mean...I thought I should. You had a date with Logan, and I didn’t want you to think that I...I mean--oh, dammit.” Charles looked away for a moment, looking completely miserable. “I wanted to see if you would be jealous.”

Erik just looked at Charles without speaking, blinking, his mouth half-open. 

“I’m a hypocrite, Erik, I--oh!” Charles made a sound of surprise as Erik growled and kissed him fiercely. 

"You're not mad?" Charles asked once Erik had released his mouth to nibble on his neck. 

“I’m the opposite of mad," Erik murmured, trailing bites and kisses down Charles’ neck. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in months.” He slid his fingers into Charles’ hair and held his face in place for another deep kiss.

Charles realized he was grinding up against Erik like a teenager. “Is there somewhere...else..we can…”

“I have a room. Here. Yes, let’s...go there.” Slowly, reluctantly, the men pulled apart and simultaneously adjusted themselves so their erections were less obvious. Then they both laughed at that and Charles indicated for Erik to lead the way. 

**

“God, I missed you,” Charles gasped once they were in Erik’s hotel room, undressing each other frantically. “I tried not to, but I did.”

As soon as he had removed Erik’s jacket and tie and shirt, Charles walked Erik backwards to the bed and pushed him over so that his legs were bent over the edge of the bed. Charles undid Erik’s pants in a near-frenzy, only slowing down once he had freed Erik’s cock from his pants. “Oh, I missed _this_ ,” he breathed, swiping his tongue around the head of Erik’s cock like a pro instead of someone who only had a cock in his mouth three times previously. 

“Has there--” Erik was trying to talk, but it was hard. “Has there been anyone else?”

Charles shook his head, still focused on Erik’s cock in his mouth. “No,” he said. “I...was going to, once, but…”

Erik suddenly regretted asking. “You were worried about safe sex. You told me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”

Charles chuckled a little and pressed his face into Erik’s flat abdomen. “Not exactly. I mean, that was what I told him, but really I just--I wanted--him to be _you_.”

Erik reached down to Charles and pulled him up by his shoulders so that he was next to Erik on the bed and kissed him with all the emotion that was clogging Erik’s mind. “You are making my heart feel three sizes too big,” he finally said in a soft voice. 

“Well, it will match your cock then,” Charles said with a cheeky grin. 

Erik grinned back and gently pushed Charles over until he was on his back, then kissed him deeply. “What do you want?” he asked softly, running his hand up and down Charles’ body. 

“Do you mean that in a general or specific way?” Charles asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Anything,” Erik said seriously. “Charles, anything within my power…”

Charles cut him off with a kiss. “I want you to fuck me.”

Erik raised his eyebrows and tried to tell his cock not to get ahead of itself. “Charles, you--what? You don’t mean…”

“I do,” Charles said breathlessly, leaning up to nibble on Erik’s neck. His flesh tasted as delicious as Charles remembered, and it was maddening. “I want you inside me.”

Erik gently pushed him back and looked at him with concern. “You don’t have to,” he said, stroking Charles’ face. “I don’t want you to think that I expect--”

“I want to,” Charles said sincerely, looking at Erik with earnest blue eyes. “I’ve been...um, I’m not sure how to say it exactly, but--fingering? Myself. When I’ve been jerking off, I mean, and...I like it. I keep thinking---about it being you--”

“Oh, fuck,” Erik breathed, cutting Charles off by kissing him deeply. “The thought of you doing that, Charles…” Erik’s cock was rock hard, picturing Charles with his fingers in his ass, thinking about Erik. Charles was already naked from the waist up, and Erik unbuttoned Charles’ pants, pushing them down with his underwear until Charles was completely naked next to him.

“You’re thinner,” Erik observed, in between his kisses and caresses. “Have you been eating enough?”

“You sound like your mother,” Charles gasped, as Erik grasped his penis. 

“Please don’t talk about my mother right now,” Erik groaned, which made both men start laughing. 

“How do I…” Charles trailed off. Erik was focused on kissing and licking Charles’ penis, but Charles didn’t want him to ignore Charles’ request. “You do have condoms and lube, don’t you?”

Erik lifted his head and gave Charles an innocent look. “Oh, no. I thought it would be too presumptuous.” Erik couldn’t keep the charade as he watched Charles’ face fall and he grinned. “I’m kidding, of course I do.” He gave Charles’ cock one long lick and then stood up and walked over to the bathroom. 

“It _is_ presumptuous,” Charles called to Erik, smiling. “It’s just apparently not _too_ presumptuous.” He propped himself up on his elbows and watched Erik return with supplies. “Oh good, you brought towels, too.”

“Well, it’s not my first rodeo,” Erik said, putting the things next to Charles on the bed and smiling fondly at him. 

“I guess it is mine,” Charles said, as a flash of apprehension crossed his face.

Erik sat next to him and stroked Charles’ chest gently. “If you’ve changed your mind - or, if you change your mind at any point - tell me, please, and we’ll stop.”

“I want this,” Charles said sincerely. 

“I believe you,” Erik said. “But please trust me as someone with, uh, a lot of experience doing this - your body may not agree with your mind. Don’t try and force yourself to keep going if you are hurting, okay, Charles? This is important.” His lips followed where his hands were moments before, pressing gentle kisses to Charles’ chest. 

Charles licked his lips and nodded. He started to feel nervous and told himself to breathe normally as Erik moved down Charles' body. He settled between Charles’ legs, kissing his way down his penis and past his balls. Charles made a soft sigh of appreciation. 

Charles smelled pleasantly of soap. Erik kissed Charles’ inner thighs as he used his left hand to very slowly stroke Charles’ cock. “Open your legs more?” Erik whispered, the breath of his voice disturbing the soft hair on Charles perineum. 

Charles obliged and Erik said, “Would you feel comfortable if I put a pillow under your hips?”

“Sure,” said Charles. His slight anxiety had melted almost entirely into anticipation. “You don’t have to be quite so careful with me, you know.”

Erik pulled a pillow from the head of the bed and maneuvered it under Charles’ hips. “Is that so?” Charles was now open so delightfully beneath him that Erik couldn’t resist touching the tip of his tongue to the delicate skin around Charles’ entrance. 

Which got him kicked in the head as Charles bucked in shock. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Charles gasped as Erik’s hand went instinctively to his head and he self-deprecatingly laughed at himself. “I wasn’t expecting--that.”

“I should have asked,” Erik admitted, kissing Charles’ inner thighs. 

“You could - do it again, I mean, if you want to…” Charles was biting his lip and breathing heavy. 

Erik didn’t usually perform analingus without a dental dam, but he thought that Charles wouldn’t complain if he kept everything external, anyway. He touched his tongue more deliberately to the skin just to the side of the pucker and Charles made a strangled sound but deliberately opened his legs a bit wider. Erik lapped at the sensitive flesh, touching on the rim a few times but not tongue-fucking his ass as he suspected a more experienced lover would expect. 

The effect on Charles was gratifying. He was panting and sweating, swallowing convulsively, trying to hold still while his fists clenched in the bedsheets. “I need--I need--something,” Charles said, gorgeously desperate and unbelievably sexy. 

Erik planted a kiss on the inner curve of Charles’ ass cheek while he pulled on one of his disposable purple gloves and slicked up his fingers from his travel-sized bottle of lube. He moved his face up so that he could kiss and nuzzle Charles’ balls as he put a slicked fingertip at Charles’ pucker and gently pushed in. 

It slid in more easily than Erik had expected and Charles groaned his approval. Erik shifted so that he could suck Charles' cock while he prepared him. The second finger slid in easily, too, and Erik wondered exactly how much Charles had been fingering himself. Nevertheless, he took his time, seeking the prostate and rubbing against it briefly, enough to make Charles moan and for his anus to clench and relax a few times. It wasn't until Erik slid in a third finger that Charles made a few sounds that sounded a little distressed to Erik.

“Are you alright?” Erik asked, pulling his mouth off Charles' cock. He glanced at Charles’ face and saw the Charles’ lips were wet and red with biting, his eyes closed and brow furrowed. 

“It’s feeling--tighter,” Charles admitted. “Can you - just - hold still for a second?”

“Of course,” Erik said. “Do you want me to keep sucking your cock?”

“Yes please,” Charles whispered, the faintest smile crossing his face. 

Erik slid his mouth up and down Charles’ shaft, holding the fingers of his right hand absolutely still inside Charles until he started to clench around them and move his hips a little impatiently. “Okay to move again?” Erik whispered.

“Yes, please,” Charles, a little more neediness in his voice now. 

_Such refined manners,_ Erik thought, but decided it might not be quite the right time to tease Charles, considering he probably felt quite vulnerable at that moment. Instead he started slowly fucking the trio of fingers in and out of Charles, drizzling a little more lube on them. Charles was making soft noises, his breathing uneven. 

Erik had already spent far longer than he usually did with prep, but Charles’ inexperience and very Erik’s matter-of-fact knowledge that he had a large cock made him want to be especially cautious. He kept fingering Charles until the three fingers could be easily inserted fully, twisted and removed without difficulty. His cock was still a bit bigger than his fingers, but Erik had just decided that was probably sufficient when Charles spoke. 

“How much longer before you fuck me?”

“Right now,” Erik said, withdrawing his fingers, his voice gravelly and thick with arousal. “I’m going to fuck you right now, does that sound good?”

“God, yes, please,” Charles said, lifting his head to look at Erik. “Should I - do I need to - turn over?”

“Only if you want to,” Erik said, rolling a condom on his cock and stroking some slick onto it. He debated expressing his own preference but decided to say it anyway. “But I’d like to see your face while I make love to you.”

Erik was surprised to hear the exact words that came out of his mouth. He couldn’t recall having ever said ‘make love’ to someone before. Charles, though, gazed at Erik like something inside him had melted. “Do you have to use a condom?” he whispered. 

Erik’s eyes widened and his hand paused on his cock. He was too turned on, too excited to think clearly about that right then. “I don’t make those kinds of decisions when my dick is hard.”

Charles looked startled and then laughed a little. “Okay. Good policy.”

“It’s kept me alive all this time,” Erik said, moving over Charles. He kissed the man under him sweetly, slowly. “Ready?”

“Please,” Charles said, his hands stroking Erik’s arms. Erik shifted his weight to one arm while he used the other to position his cock and very slowly pushed in. 

“Uhhhh,” Charles moaned, his eyes open and glassy, staring into Erik’s eyes, his jaw slack. “Big,” he whispered.

“Tight,” Erik whispered back, feeling himself starting to sweat as he struggled for the control to go slow enough not to hurt Charles. 

“More, a little more,” Charles breathed, and Erik obligingly pushed in a little more. 

“Keep coming, slowly,” Charles whined, his voice higher in pitch. Erik wished he had a hand to spare to stroke Charles’ cock, but he needed both to hold up his weight when he was being this careful. 

“Ahh, stop - I mean, just wait - just there,” Charles said abruptly, his face screwing up. 

“Touch yourself,” Erik panted. “If you stroke you cock, it will help.”

Charles looked doubtful, but reached his right hand down between them and started stroking himself. Erik’s arms trembled as he fought to stay still. 

Charles’ eyes closed as he kept tugging on his penis. His eyes rolled shut. “Oh,” he said, more an exhale than an intentional vocalization. Erik could feel his grip relaxing around Erik’s cock, but he waited until Charles said, “More, please,” before pushing in further. 

"Too slow, faster, please," Charles whimpered, to Erik's surprise. He pushed in slightly faster, relishing the tight glide against his cock. 

"Oh my god," Charles gasped, his eyes opening and slowly focusing on Erik's face. "I feel so--full--oh fuck, move, dammit, sorry, please!"

Erik couldn't help smiling a little as Charles struggled with his perfect manners. "Anything you want," he murmured, surprised to find how much meant that; he would move mountains for Charles if he could. 

Erik pulled out slowly and Charles gave him an alarmed look until he pushed in, more firmly. Charles’ head fell back and his eyes rolled back. Erik didn’t fail to note that he was furiously jerking himself. “Slow down,” Erik whispered as he pushed in. 

“Huh? Me?” Charles blinked and looked at Erik. 

Erik could not help a chuckle escaping his mouth, “Who else would I be talking to?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Charles begged, his eyes closing.

“No, no,” Erik breathed. “I’m sorry, Charles, you’re beautiful, you are fucking amazing, you _feel_ amazing. I just want to make this last for you.”

Charles slowed his hand down, his jaw slack, staring up at Erik’s face as Erik fucked in and out of him. Erik couldn’t tell anything from Charles’ face, so he said, “Is this good? Are you okay?”

Charles nodded slowly. “‘S’good,” he said. “Your cock, Erik, Jesus, it’s so big.”

“I know,” Erik murmured, starting to fuck Charles a little faster. He paused briefly to wipe his sweaty forehead off on his upper arm. 

“You _know_?” Charles said, amusement tinging his voice. 

“Yeah. Can I fuck you harder?” Rational thought and the niceties of bedroom interaction were beginning to be out of Erik’s reach. Charles’ ass was tight and hot around his cock and his instinct was driving him.

“Yes,” Charles breathed, his hand speeding up on his cock again. Erik started fucking a little faster, but mostly deeper, thrusting into Charles until he felt his balls against Charles’ body. 

“Oh god,” Charles said, biting his lip hard, “please, faster, right now, _please_.”

Erik could do that. He sped up, pistoning Charles nearly as hard as he could as Charles jerked himself and writhed and suddenly stiffened and groaned loudly as he spurted across his stomach. Erik fucked him through it, loving every minute expression on Charles’ face, when Charles abruptly said, “Oh god, I need you out, right now.”

Erik dreaded that but he had half been expecting it. He pulled out as quickly but as carefully as he could, holding the rim of the condom, and fell back on the bed next to Charles, breathing heavily. He still wanted to come - his dick was rock hard - but the rest of his body was a little grateful for the reprieve. 

Charles was immediately apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I just needed - I just needed it out,” Charles said helplessly, turning to Erik. 

“It’s okay,” Erik said, leaning close and getting a sweaty and breathless kiss from the other man. “I told you sometimes your mind and your body won’t agree. Sometimes your body wants to stop. For what it’s worth, you did very well,” Erik said. It felt odd to praise a lover that way and he hoped that Charles wouldn’t think he was being condescending. 

“Me? You did all the work,” Charles exclaimed. He rolled onto his side and rested his head on Erik, heedless of their sweaty bodies. 

Erik kissed his hair for a long moment before responding. “You told me what you needed. That can be the hardest part.”

“What do _you_ need?” Charles said, angling his head to look up at Erik. “I'd love to suck your cock. Can I swallow your come?”

Erik’s cock jumped at those words, of course. Erik wrapped his arms tightly around Charles. “Someday. Not today. Maybe...room service? We can discuss the, uh, options over dinner.” 

“You’re a very patient man,” Charles observed. 

“You require a lot of patience,” Erik responded, teasingly. Charles bit him on his pectoral and Erik yelped. Charles soothed the bite with his tongue. 

“Can’t take it rough, huh?” Charles asked, his eyes glinting.

“Oh, I can be rough,” Erik said. “I keep thinking about how perfect your bottom is for spanking.”

Charles froze. “Really?” he said in a low voice.

Erik’s eyebrows rose. “Yes--is that bad?”

Erik watched as Charles blushed more than Erik had seen him do since San Francisco. “I always wanted--I mean, I never dared--no one...that’s not bad,” he finally managed. “It’s not bad at all.” 

Erik smiled slowly and pulled Charles up to him for a long, deep kiss. 

**

They ordered room service and then showered together, which is how Erik ended up almost losing his balance in the shower when Charles got on his knees and sucked him off. As it was, they had to hasten to get decent because room service started knocking while they were both still wet. 

After they had eaten and were cuddled together on the bed wearing the fluffy robes that the hotel provided, Charles said, “That - earlier - what you did with your tongue…”

“Yes?”

“I liked it.”

Erik smirked. “No, really?”

“I thought for a moment you were going to - put your tongue inside me.”

“I wanted to,” Erik admitted. 

Charles looked at Erik with wide and disbelieving eyes. “You would do that?” 

“I would definitely do that,” Erik said. “I would love to fuck your ass with my tongue.” Erik grinned at Charles’ scandalized expression. “Does that shock you?”

“Well...what was stopping you?” 

Erik laughed with delight over Charles’ eagerness. “Well, I didn’t bring any dentals dams.”

Charles shut his mouth and looked at Erik thoughtfully. “When will we be able to stop with the condoms?” He asked, and the timing of the question made Erik laugh.

“I think six months is a good safe guideline,” Erik said. “You’re a sex educator; do you agree?”

Charles looked as if he wanted to hear something else, but he nodded. “Six months from now?"

“From when we both get tested together.” Erik nuzzled Charles’ damp hair. “We can go to a clinic Monday, if you want. You think you won’t be sick of me in six months?”

Charles looked at Erik solemnly. “I wouldn’t have led you on by having sex with you if I wasn’t prepared to explore our relationship further. I know how you feel.”

Erik wondered if that was true. “You do?”

Charles smiled a little and kissed Erik on the lips, a sweet, lingering kiss. “You’ve been quite transparent, my dear. And very consistent. You threw me for a loop last night, but...I know why you did that now. And it shows a lot of respect for me.”

Erik wrapped his other arm around Charles, relishing the warmth and feel of him in Erik’s arms. “So you’re not mad that I wasn’t, well, completely sincere about just wanting to be your friend?”

“No,” Charles whispered, and Erik could hear the smile in his voice. “Like someone told me recently, I’m the opposite of mad. Because as it turns out, I can’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t know if I could trust you, honestly, right after that week. But since then...you’ve been, well, just wonderful, about David, and kind to me...to tell you the truth I never stopped wanting you, or caring about you.”

 

Erik felt his chest swell with emotion and he rolled on top of Charles, gazing into his eyes and grinning like a fool. He knew in that moment with unshakeable certainty that he was in love, and he also knew it was too soon to say it. 

He said it anyway. “I love you.”

Charles smiled, and tears shone in his eyes. “Oh, Erik. I...probably love you too.” He half-laughed as he said it.

“‘Probably’?” Erik asked, his eyebrows up but knitted together, his own eyes shining with moisture. “Well. That’s better than I thought I would ever get.” Charles gave him a long, sweet kiss. 

There was a knock on the door at that moment. Erik jerked his head up and gave Charles a look of frowning concern. Charles returned the look and Erik rolled off the bed and went to the door.

It was a hotel employee, bearing a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “I didn’t order this,” Erik said in confusion. 

“It’s a gift, sir,” the man said calmly, handing Erik the bottle and glasses. The man nodded to the bottle. “There’s a note.” And there was a small card attached to the neck of the bottle. 

“Thank you,” Erik said distractedly as the door closed. Charles looked at him curiously as he opened and read the card and then laughed. “It’s for you.”

Charles got up and accepted the card from Erik, which read: _Dear Charles, Please accept my apology._

“Champagne makes up for her rudeness to me?” Charles said. Although, as he thought about it, sending him that flyer and arranging for Erik to be there instead was a little more than champagne. “I’ll have to think about it,” he said loftily.

Erik just gave him an amused glance as he poured a glass of champagne for each of them. They toasted each other, then kissed some more, and not long after were cuddled up on the bed again. Erik adjusted so he could put his head on Charles’ chest and the steady beat of Charles’ heart had him feeling sleepy until he heard Charles’ voice rumbling through his chest.

“We should discuss some...logistics,” Charles said thoughtfully, stroking Erik’s hair. 

“Logistics?” Erik mumbled against Charles’ chest.

“You currently live on the opposite coast from me with your mother. I teach here, my children’s school year just started…”

“Oh, _logistics._ ” Feeling slightly more awake, Erik smiled. “I’ve thought about this. I can write anywhere, and I end up needing to be in New York several times a year at least for different things, anyway. So I will move to New York."

Charles seemed pleased, if reserved. “What about your mother?”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll want to move with me,” Erik said. “She still has friends in Brooklyn that she talks to regularly.”

“Oh,” Charles said, a strange sound in his voice. “I suppose that will work.”

Erik thought he might know what the strange sound signified; Erik did not presume that Charles wanted him to live with him, especially with his mother, especially this early in their relationship. “If I stay an extra few days, will you help me apartment hunt?”

“Oh! Yes,” Charles said, sounding relieved. “Yes, I can help you do that.”

Charles was quiet a moment, and Erik thought he might be feeling the same sleepiness Erik was for a moment, although he was still stroking Erik’s hair, until Charles spoke again a few minutes later. "I'm going to have to come out," Charles said softly. 

Erik was quiet a moment, then rolled to the side so he could look at Charles. Erik had mixed feelings; he felt that the more queer people who were out about their sexuality, the better the world for be for all queer people, but he also knew it was something that Charles struggled with. He considered a number of responses before he said, “Are you still worried about your stepfather and stepbrother?”

“Oh,” Charles said, with a huffed laugh, “Actually, I wasn’t even thinking about them. I could care less what they think, now, for some reason, which is kind of exhilarating in itself. But the idea of coming out to everyone else in my life...," Charles shook his head. "I wish I didn't care what people thought. My colleagues at University won't bat an eye, I'm sure. David and Jean will be thrilled - I think they actually like you better than me." Charles smiled for a moment, then sighed. "But the show - my radio show - the producer is fairly conservative. I've always advocated making the safest possible choices when it comes to sex, and my opinion on anal sex is well-known. If it becomes known that I am having sex with a man, people will assume it's anal sex and that I am a hypocrite. And...well, they would be right."

"You still think anal sex is dangerous?" Erik tried to keep any derision out of his voice.

"I think it _might_ be," Charles said, with a bit of ‘professor’ persona sneaking into his voice. "I'm not saying I never want to do it again," he added hastily. "It's just that I am, at heart, a scientist. Until someone has gathered and analyzed evidence that it is safe, I think it's an unknown."

Erik tried to keep his anger and annoyance from coloring his voice. "If you feel that way, why did we just do it?" 

"Because I wanted to," Charles said simply. "And even if there are long-term health consequences, I didn't think at least trying it would kill me. I smoked a cigarette, once, too. Maybe a few times. Perhaps it took a few minutes off my life, but I didn't drop dead."

"Well," Erik said, "Why don't you say _that_ on your show?"

"Because--" Charles laughed at the thought of even daring to use a cigarette analogy that way on his radio show. Heads would roll! "Because the parents who allow their children to listen to my show expect a certain message. 'Try it a couple times and see what you think' doesn't go over well with that crowd."

"If you say so," Erik said, with disdain in his voice. "I think I'd rather be honest about my perspective, than perpetuate what I know to be or suspect to be untrue."

Charles frowned at Erik. "Anyway," he said, significantly, "On a personal level, the person I fear coming out to the most is Gabby's father. His wife, Gabby’s mother, died about ten years ago, also of cancer, and Harlan is close to both David and Jean. He's actually staying with them tonight, as I thought I might be back, ahem, late. He is...well. He’s the definition of conservative. I am sure he won't approve of us."

Erik could care less what Gabby's father thought of him. "I don't want want to have to pretend that we're 'just friends' or that I have a girlfriend in Canada or some bullshit like that." Erik cringed internally, sure that he had crossed the line, but Charles didn’t seem to find anything objectionable in what he said.

"No," Charles agreed. "You are not my dirty little secret, Erik. I don't intend to lie to anyone. It's just...I have always been private about my sex life. And now it feels like I will be giving everyone permission to speculate."

That made sense to Erik. He kissed Charles. "I can understand how that would bother you."

"There," Charles said with a smile. "Why couldn't you have just said that earlier?"

Erik frowned. "What?"

"Nevermind," Charles said. "You'll get the hang of this relationship stuff."

**

Charles crept home late that night, around 2am. Harlan was asleep in the recliner in the living room and Charles gently shook his arm until Harlan acknowledged him. The old man was gone by the time Charles got up the next morning, which was typical for him, but Charles felt relieved that it meant he had an excuse to put off telling him about Erik.

Erik spent much of the next two days with Charles and David and Jean, although they had agreed not to engage in displays of affection around the children until Charles had had a chance to talk to them both about their new relationship. However, they did take David and Jean apartment hunting, which Jean took in stride, but it had David raising his eyebrows and looking expectantly at his father.

Charles insisted that he go alone to drop Erik off at the airport (so he could get a kiss goodbye) and David ambushed him as soon as he got home. "So Erik's moving to New York. Does that mean you guys are together? Like a couple?"

"Yes," Charles said simply. 

"Alright!" David crowed. "Why isn't he moving in here? We have lots of room."

"Well," Charles said, evasively, "He's moving with his mother, probably, and this is all very new, and...well, we just haven't talked about that yet."

"Haven't talked about what?" Jean said, wandering into the foyer.

"David, I'm going to talk to Jean in the living room. Will you give us some privacy?" Charles said significantly. David nodded and winked before running upstairs. 

"Daddy?" Jean said. Her lip was trembling. 

"What is it, honey?" Charles said, concerned, kneeling down to be on her level. 

"The last time you wanted to talk to me privately..." she bit her lip and Charles grimaced and internally castigated himself as he remembered: when he and Gabby had explained to Jean that mommy had cancer. 

"This time it's good news," he said with a gentle smile, as he led her into the living room to sit next to him on the couch. "Jean, do you know what 'bisexual' means?"

Her nose scrunched up and she thought. "Bisexual? Like - bicycle?"

Charles considered that the words did share some of the same etymology, but he thought he might confuse his daughter more if he tried to point that and/or draw a parallel. "Ah - no. Bisexual means - someone who likes both boys and girls."

Jean's face straightened. "I like boys and girls! I mean, some of them, not all of them."

"I mean..." Charles thought perhaps he might have planned this conversation better. "You know how Erik is gay?"

She nodded. "And David. Is that what it is?"

"Not exactly...you, ah, know how I like Erik?" 

Jean blinked at him and suddenly started giggling. "Do you have another hickey, Daddy?"

"I don't think so," he said honestly, chuckling a little himself because he wasn't completely sure, actually. He thought maybe he should stop talking down to his daughter, though. "Jean, I'm trying to tell you that I am bisexual. That means I am sexually attracted to both men and women."

Jean looked at him. "Oh," she said, sitting up straighter, the syllable bright with realization. "Is that why Erik's moving to New York? Because he's your - boyfriend?"

"Basically, yes," Charles said. He still wasn't sure 'boyfriend' was the term he wanted to use; it seemed so young.

"So it's like you are gay and also--" she paused. "What's the word for not-gay?" 

"Heterosexual," Charles said. "Or, straight."

"So it's like you are gay and straight at the same time," she said, declaratively, then looked at him. "Right?"

Close enough, Charles thought. "Well, yes, that's right," He said. "You are a very remarkable young lady, did you know that?" He hugged Jean and she hugged him back. 

"I like Erik," Jean said, "But - I hope - I mean, can we talk about mommy around him? He won't feel jealous, will he?"

"He won't feel jealous," Charles assured her. Erik had not shown an ounce of jealousy so far when Charles had talked about Gabby - it was one of the things that Charles really appreciated about Erik. "He knows that we will always love mommy." 

Jean smiled at Charles. "I miss mommy braiding my hair in the mornings," she said, and Charles felt a pang as he realized that perhaps he was doing a disservice to his daughter by not being with a woman. Not that braiding hair was a major concern - Charles could at least brush it and put it into a ponytail for her - but it made Charles remember that there were many other ways that Jean could benefit from having a woman’s perspective - that had been a reason he had wanted a female role model for Jean.

It was not a pleasant thought. 

**

As Erik had hoped, Edie was thrilled at the idea of moving back to New York, although she did tell Erik that he didn't have to move her with him. 

"Liebling, you have a new family now," she said, smiling kindly at her son. "You don't have to live with me forever."

"Mama, it’s a little early to call them my ’new family’," Erik said said, with a mild exasperation. "This is a big change for Charles - well - for both of us, I guess. Anyway, I promised you," he said, as if that settled it. She shook her head at him but she was smiling, and she proceeded to start packing immediately. 

**  
_One month later_

Charles walked into David's room where he was playing Sega. "Can you pause the game, David?" Charles asked. 

David immediately did and turned to Charles with concern. "What? What happened?"

Charles sat down on David's bed and took a deep breath. "The police officer who has been my unofficial liaison in California has let me know that they have a man in custody who matches the description of the trucker who attempted to--assault you." Charles paused. "They'd like to know if you would be willing to go there and see if you could pick him out of a line-up."

David swallowed and looked at his father for a moment before replying. "Do I have to?"

"No, it's your choice," Charles said evenly. "Apparently he was caught with another child, and they plan to charge him for that crime already. If you can ID him they could also charge him for attempting to assault you."

"So he's going to jail whether I do anything or not?" David asked, his eyes round as he considered. 

"Probably, but you could help make sure that happens," Charles said. 

David looked very distressed. "I'd rather not see him again."

"I know," Charles said softly. "I'm not going to make you, but I think you'll find that it might help you to face your fears." Twice in the past three months, Charles had woken up to find his teenage son in his bed because he'd had nightmares. "And it would keep the man from hurting any other young people."

David bit his lip. "Do I have to decide right now?"

"Well, the DA is going to bring charges soon, and they need to know within a day or two," Charles said gently, reaching a hand to stroke his son's back. "Do you want to sleep on it?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay," Charles said. 

**

He told Erik about the conversation with David on the phone that night. "Logan has the guy in custody?" Erik asked. 

"Not exactly - apparently the truck driver, William Brasky, is in custody in San Jose right now," Charles said, "Logan's just helping keep me appraised of the situation."

Erik hummed. "William Brasky, San Jose," he said thoughtfully. 

"Erik," Charles said sharply. "Do not go to San Jose to talk to him."

"I wasn't going to _talk_ to him," Erik said darkly.

Charles felt very inappropriately charmed and amused. "Erik. I appreciate your willingness to commit murder on behalf of my family, but I can't fuck you if you're in prison."

"Hmm," Erik said. "Good point. I'll have to be careful not to get caught."

Charles sighed. "Can we please entrust this to the justice system?"

"Alright," Erik groused. "If for some reason he doesn't get convicted though..."

"...we'll revisit the topic," Charles promised. He wasn't entirely sure how serious Erik was, and hoped not to find out.

**

David decided the next day that he did want see if he could pick the truck driver out of a line-up. Charles asked Harlan to come stay with Jean for a couple days, which he was happy to do, and Charles and David flew to California. 

Logan wasn’t able to get away from his responsibilities in San Francisco to come to San Jose, but he did tell Charles he would be in New York in a few months if he and Erik wanted to have dinner or get drinks. Fortunately all the officers in San Jose were very nice to David, even though he was clearly nervous about the whole line-up process. Charles was in the room and kept his hand on David’s shoulder, which David allowed until he saw the line-up. 

Charles did not know which man was the suspect. They were all portly men with beards, who stepped forward one at a time to say in a monotone, “Davey-boy, you’re the one who decided to get rough.”

“Number 5,” David said without hesitation, glaring at the man behind the glass, even though it had been explained to David that the men couldn’t see him.

“Are you sure?” The officer asked. 

“I’m positive,” David said. “I couldn’t forget his face if I tried.” David didn’t sound at all like a child when he said that and Charles felt both sad about his son’s lost innocence but also proud of him for facing his fears. 

Since San Jose wasn't too far south of Daly City, Charles and David stayed with Erik and Edie that night before flying back the next morning. Edie took a day out of her packing to prepare four times as much food as Charles and David could possibly need. ("It really is a wonder you're not fat," Charles whispered to Erik later that night as they tried to have the Quietest Sex Ever.)

**

Considering that Erik and Edie had been living in the little green house in Daly City for over twenty years, packing and organizing was a considerable task and it was two months before they were able to get settled in at their new two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, located a respectable ten blocks from Charles' far larger apartment. 

After Erik was finally settled in New York, Charles was the happiest he had been in years, certainly since before Gabby had gotten sick. He saw Erik nearly every day, and they slept together in Charles' home most nights. Edie was overjoyed to have two honorary grandchildren, and she was willing to watch David and Jean anytime Erik and Charles wanted to go out. Harlan was too, of course, but since Charles hadn’t told his father-in-law who he was dating, calling Harlan always made him feel a little anxious. 

Thanksgiving was a little uncomfortable for Charles. Edie and Erik were there, of course, but Charles also invited Harlan because he’d had him over for Thanksgiving every year since he and Gabby had moved in together, and because he thought Harlan probably didn’t have anywhere else to go; he didn’t have any other family that Charles knew of. Erik was irritated at the thought that he would have to act platonic around Charles for the evening, and he urged Charles to come out to Harlan before Thanksgiving, but Harlan was so focused on the food and complimenting David and Edie for every dish that he didn’t even notice that Charles and Erik seemed unusually physically affectionate for two straight men. Charles planned to tell him after dinner but he fell asleep in the recliner shortly after the meal. 

Charles sighed as he watched his father-in-law sleeping. When had the man gotten so thin? Come to think of it, Charles didn’t know if Harlan even knew how to cook. No wonder all he could talk about at dinner was the food. 

Charles found telling his work colleagues to be the easiest part - he simply brought Erik to the department holiday party and introduced him as "my significant other" (Charles found the term 'boyfriend' to be too juvenile and Erik found that the word 'partner' evoked a business relationship, so they had settled on 'significant other'). Charles’ co-workers reacted either with pleased surprise or with a certain smugness that made Charles feel that he had not been quite as discreet about his interests as he had thought. Nevertheless, he started the spring semester at the end of January with a spring in his step; he felt authentic, and free, and in love.

The inevitable happened, of course; Charles was in the studio taking calls for _Love in The Nineties_ when “Sasha from Atlantic City” asked,

_"My boyfriend told me he thinks about guys sometimes, like in a sex way. Not like, while we're having sex, he says, but I feel like he is gay and I should break up with him. What do you think, Professor X?"_

Charles took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He looked at the time and saw that he was on his last call of the evening. "Hello, Sasha. Do you think your boyfriend is attracted to you?"

"Oh yeah," she said without hesitation. "He wants to do it all the time."

"In that case, it is unlikely that he is gay," Charles said carefully. "He could be bisexual, that is, attracted to both men and women."

"But people are one or the other, ain't they?"

"No," Charles said, "There is a middle ground. I know that bisexual people exist, because I myself am bisexual."

Utter silence. The producer was staring at Charles with his mouth open. The engineer was grinning and giving him a double thumbs up. 

"Several months ago, I was seen on television and photographed with author and columnist Erik Lehnsherr. Since that time we have started dating. I am still definitely attracted to women...but I am currently in a relationship with a man. So I can assure you, bisexuals exist." Charles paused. "On that note, I leave you for this evening. We look forward to talking to you next time on _Love In The Nineties._ "

Charles just sat in his seat with his heart pounding as the engineer played the outro music. The producer turned to him. "You could have brought this to my attention before coming out on the air," he said sharply. 

"Probably," Charles agreed. But he couldn't stop one corner of his mouth from creeping up. 

The producer glared at him for a moment then sighed. "We'll just have to see what the advertisers' responses are." Charles knew that translated to: we have to see what the audience's response is. If the audience response was positive, the advertisers would be happy. 

Even though it was an unpleasant thought that his listeners' approval or disapproval of his sexuality determined whether or not he would still keep the radio gig, Charles went home feeling a strange, bubbly elation. 

David met him at the door. "Dad! You came out! On the air!"

"Oh, you heard that. I'm flattered you still listen to my show," Charles said with a smile, hanging up his coat. "You haven't mentioned it in a while."

"Of course I listen," David said, sounding almost offended. "You're my _Dad_."

The phone rang and Charles thought he probably knew who it was, but he was mistaken. "Hello?" he answered with a smile.

"Charles! Oh my god! Kurt just told me that you came out on the air!" Raven's familiar and excited voice was loud enough that Charles winced and pulled the phone slightly away from his ear. 

"Yes, yes, I did, that's true," Charles said distractedly. "Do you mind if we talk later? I'd like to call Erik."

"Oh, well, that makes sense," Raven said. Charles had of course told her that he and Erik were dating. “Hey, we’re going to be coming to New York for a visit soon. We’re still working out the dates, but I wanted to let you know.” 

“That sounds great! We’ll talk more soon. Love you.” Charles was just hanging up the phone when Erik burst in through the front door. He had a key, of course, he looked around wildly and literally ran over to Charles and kissed him as soon as he saw him. 

When he had a moment to breathe, Charles laughed against Erik's mouth. "I guess you heard tonight's broadcast."

"Help, I’m being traumatized!" David said, with all the smart-assery a teenager could muster. “Forced to witness homosexual acts!” 

Erik grinned. "I did," he told Charles. To David, he said, "Good, you can learn a few things."

"Erik!" Charles said, mortified. 

"About romance," Erik clarified, before he picked Charles up and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, despite Charles' yelling to put him down. 

David was laughing to hard to speak.

"This--is not--romance," Charles grunted. "Put me down!"

"Soon," Erik said. He displayed some impressive leg strength by carrying Charles up a flight of stairs before unceremoniously dumping him on the bed. 

"You're a Neanderthal," Charles said, shaking his head but unable to stop smiling. 

"Well, you love a Neanderthal," Erik said. “Probably.” He grinned because ‘probably’ had become a running joke between them. He straddled Charles and his face became more serious. "I'm proud of you," he said. "What you said, how you said it, so matter-of-fact...you are amazing."

"I probably lost the show," Charles said ruefully, although Erik's words warmed him. 

"Doesn't matter," Erik murmured, between pressing small kisses all over Charles' face. "People heard you. You made a difference in someone's life tonight, Charles, I'm sure of it. Possibly lots of people's lives."

Charles hadn't thought of it that way - he had been mostly thinking about himself and how it would affect his life. "Do you really think so?" he said.

Erik rolled so he was laying on his side next to Charles, his head propped up on his elbow. "I really do," he said softly. "There's a bisexual kid in Missouri or Idaho whose life you may have saved tonight, because they realized 'I'm not alone'."

Charles swallowed and felt himself tear up a little at the thought. "That's a beautiful idea, Erik," he said softly. "Thank you."

"That kind of bravery deserves an award, don't you think?" Erik murmured, as he started undressing Charles. 

Charles' lips quirked. "What kind of a reward?"

Erik showed him exactly what kind of reward he had in mind.

**


	12. Harlan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, finally! I have loved writing this story and the comments and support I have received from you guys has been amazing. Special thanks to frequent commenters afrocurl, messedup4good, avictoriangirl, justbrowsing, and brodeurbunny30. I hope you like how everything shakes down.

The morning after he came out on the radio, Charles' phone rang at 8am. Charles reluctantly rolled over and out of Erik’s embrace to answer it. The caller was from a local teen crisis center - they wanted to know if Charles would come and talk to some of the teenagers there. They had a modest budget, but they would serve him lunch. Charles was flattered and surprised and accepting was a given. 

The next call, just a few minutes later, was a reporter from The Village Voice requesting an interview. Bemused, Charles made an appointment for later that week. 

The next call was from the producer of Good Morning America; would Charles being interested in representing the views of bisexuals on the morning television program later that week?

"I'm not really sure if it's appropriate for me to represent all bisexuals," Charles said slowly. He was fully awake by then, sitting on the edge of the bed, still undressed. The media attention he'd been receiving that morning had gone from exciting to overwhelming very quickly. Erik had since gotten up and showered, but he got out in time to hear Charles’ side of that phone conversation. Charles gave him a wide-eyed look and gesticulated vaguely when Erik gave him a quizzical look. 

Charles almost missed the next thing the woman on the phone said because he had to stifle a laugh that wanted to crawl out of his throat at the sight of Erik doing what he called his 'victory dance' in a T-shirt and boxers in the kitchen. 

"Honestly," the woman on the phone said, "you _would_ be a late addition to the panel. We'd been hoping to find someone reasonably photogenic and articulate to give us a bisexual perspective for this segment and it has been surprisingly hard to find someone who fits the bill. It’s even better that you already work in media. Please say you'll do it?” 

Since there was actual pay involved for that one, it ultimately wasn't hard for Charles to say yes. 

The phone kept ringing, but Charles had to start screening the calls, and he began to understand why Erik had an unlisted number. 

Erik couldn’t stop grinning. “Remember how you thought this would be bad for your career?” He teased. 

Unfortunately, the very next phone call was someone who spewed out a string of obscenities into Charles’ answering machine and Erik quickly picked up the phone before the caller got to his point. “Uh-huh,” Erik said. “Okay. All right. You done? Good to know. Thanks for sharing.” He hung up and smiled at Charles reassuringly. 

“What was that about?” Charles asked. His stomach felt like it was twisted unpleasantly. 

Erik kissed him on the forehead. “You can’t please everyone all the time. Let me answer the phone today, okay?”

**

The only phone call Charles had actually been expecting that day was from the _Love in The Nineties_ producer, and he didn’t receive that until nearly 5pm. 

“So, it looks your little stunt paid off,” the producer said, and Charles had to fight to hold his tongue. “The program has been getting both compliments and complaints in about equal numbers, but none of the advertisers want to pull out since they are expecting your listenership to go up because of the controversy, at least for the next few weeks.”

“Okay,” Charles said. He had mixed feelings about that because it felt like perhaps the producer was just putting off firing Charles until he had milked him for as much money as possible. 

Erik agreed that was probably the case. “But more people will be tuning in next week,” Erik pointed out. “You can control the message. Say what you want to say. Be a role model.”

Charles smiled, appreciating Erik’s support, although mostly he felt exhausted. “How many calls did you answer today from people who thought I should lose my job?”

Erik took Charles’ hand and turned it over so he could kiss the inside of Charles’ wrist. “Don’t worry about that. I want to take you out tonight. We can see a show or a movie so you can put all of this out of your mind for a few hours, hmm?” 

They decided to see “The Birdcage,” a movie adaptation of _Les Cage aux Folles_ starring Robin Williams. David was out with friends and Edie wasn’t feeling well, so Charles asked Harlan if he would like to come over and watch Jean. 

The both enjoyed the movie, but decided to sleep in their separate residences that evening (as they did about half the time); Erik didn’t want to leave his mother alone overnight since she wasn’t feeling well. 

So when Charles walked into his apartment after Erik dropped him off, he was surprised to see that Harlan was awake and pacing, although Jean had long since gone to bed. Harlan usually just fell asleep right after the kids did. 

“Hello, Harlan,” Charles said. “I’m surprised you are awake.”

The older man looked at Charles with an intense expression, nearly a scowl. “Jean told me something a little disturbing this evening, Charles. I hope she was mistaken. Do you have - a - _boyfriend_?”

Charles hung up his coat while he contemplated how he would respond. He didn’t feel surprised; actually, he felt more resigned and relieved than anything else. Harlan was really the only person in Charles’ life who mattered to whom he had yet not come out. 

“I do,” Charles said quietly. 

The look of disgust on Harlan’s face was painful on some level, but it was mostly just - wearying. Harlan’s mouth opened to say more but he didn’t speak for almost a minute. Charles waited. A part of him wanted to explain, wanted to try and find some words that would make this better, but he was also tired and frankly a little annoyed. 

“How long have you…” Harlan finally said, clearing his throat instead of finishing the sentence. 

“Erik is the first man I’ve ever been involved with,” Charles said, and the words were steady and even. “Gabrielle knew I was attracted to men. And no, I was never unfaithful to her.”

Harlan seemed slightly mollified, but he still frowned and looked away. Finally he shook his head. “I can’t be comfortable having my grandchildren being raised by a pervert, Charles.” 

Charles squeezed the bridge of his nose. The words stung. “Harlan. I understand this is difficult for you, but I am still the same person with the same values I’ve always had. Gabby loved me as I am. I hope you can accept this facet of me. But, regardless of whether you do or not, it’s not going to change who I am.”

Harlan exhaled heavily. He looked at Charles for a moment, and then asked: “Does Edie - Mrs. Lehnsherr - know about this?”

“Ah, well, yes, she does,” Charles said, surprised at the question. 

Harlan pressed his lips together. “I see,” he said. “I…” he hesitated, and then sighed heavily. “I’ll be leaving now, then.”

Charles watched him go with a torrent of mixed feelings. He was angry and frustrated but also guilty and sympathetic to what Harlan was feeling, at least a little. Mostly, though, he was tried from the very long day. He thought about calling Erik to fill him in but just went straight to bed instead.

**

Charles felt a little better about everything the next day. All in all, his coming out had had a better result than he had ever hoped for, considering the career opportunities it had afforded him. He told Erik about Harlan’s reaction the next day on the phone, and Erik’s response was unsurprising and a little amusing to Charles.

“So what? Fuck him,” Erik said. “Better yet, fuck me.”

Charles couldn’t help the rueful chuckle that escaped his mouth. Erik had a way of saying the things that Charles wanted to say but would never actually say. “He’s been more of a father figure to me than anyone in my own family, Erik.”

“Well, I haven’t had _any_ father figures,” Erik said. “It’s not exactly a requirement.”

Charles tactfully did not point out that Erik had a violent past and had been unable to maintain a romantic relationship until he was close to forty years old, too. “He’s devoted to my children, and he’s an important part of their lives,” Charles instead pointed out mildly. 

“Until he realizes David is gay,” Erik said. He sounded half bitter and half dismissive.

Charles didn’t respond right away, because Erik had a point. “You don’t know him like I do, Erik. He’s a good man, and he only knows the morality he was raised with - I can’t believe that our relationship is lost forever.”

Erik was quiet for a moment, which Charles was learning meant Erik strongly disagreed with Charles but didn’t want to fight. “Um. Anyway. Logan is coming into town for the weekend in two weeks; I thought we might have dinner with him that Saturday, if you like.”

“Saturday in two weeks?” Charles asked in dismay. “Damn. That’s when Raven and Hank are coming, too; I was hoping we could have them over for dinner.”

“Well…you mentioned you used to host parties...that seems like a way we could socialize with both of them?”

Charles chuckled. “You’ve been wanting a party, haven’t you?”

Erik had been, and for a good reason, but he didn’t want to lay all his cards on the table just yet.

“It just makes it easier,” Erik said. “I have a lot of friends who want to meet you, after all.” Despite not having lived in New York for over twenty-five years, Erik had visited the city frequently and had both personal and professional acquaintances living there.

“Alright,” Charles agreed. It really hadn’t taken that much to persuade him; he’d always enjoyed hosting parties, after all. “I think we can pull a decent party together in two weeks.”

**

Charles and Gabby had always hired caterers for their parties, but Edie insisted on doing it, and David insisted on helping her. Charles wasn’t completely comfortable with it, but Erik explained that was his mother’s comfort zone and Charles dropped it. They did hire a bartender, though, since Charles refused to let Erik be behind the bar all night. 

Charles invited Harlan, too, not expecting him to come, so he was surprised when Harlan showed up right on the dot of 7pm the evening of the party, well before most other guests. He nodded stiffly to Charles and headed towards the kitchen. 

Raven and Hank arrived next, and Charles found himself being smothered by sisterly love, which, because Raven was Raven, was a little more raucous than Charles would have preferred. Nevertheless, they managed to catch up on quite a bit of his life before some of Erik’s New York friends showed up in a group and then Logan arrived, and then Emma Frost and Moira and Professor Munroe.

Hosting was harder work than Charles remembered, and it was an hour of catching up with everyone before he realized that he hadn’t seen Harlan in a while. He frowned and looked around, and just caught a glimpse of him through the swinging kitchen door, sitting and laughing, talking with Edie. 

Charles had a feeling that wouldn’t be going over well with Erik.

**

“Everything you make is delicious,” Harlan said to Edie. He had appointed himself official taster of the party, essentially staying in the kitchen after she assured him that he wasn’t in her way. 

“That is true, but also you are a very hungry man,” Edie said with a smile, preparing a cheese tray. 

“I don’t know how to cook at all,” he admitted, helping himself to another potato pancake. “My late wife did all the cooking, and then my daughter would cook me meals - I used to eat with Charles and Gabby frequently. Not so much anymore.”

“So what do you eat?” Edie asked curiously. She was stirring some kind of gravy on the stove that smelled delicious.

Harlan cleared his throat and didn’t answer. “Charles tells me that he and...your son...they are…involved.”

“Yes,” Edie said with a warm smile. “I’m so happy Erik could find love with such a wonderful man.”

“You, ah,” Harlan cleared his throat again. “You strike me as someone who is very wise, Mrs. Lehnsherr.”

“For the sixth time, Harlan, call me Edie,” she interrupted, with a cheerful exasperation.

“Edie, then.” He paused. “How is it so easy for you?” he asked. “Accepting...your son’s...proclivities.”

“You mean, about him being gay?” she said casually, not pausing in her food preparation. 

Harlan could feel his cheeks heating. “Well, yes.”

Edie took a moment before replying. “I was worried for him a lot more ten years ago,” she said honestly. “AIDS, you know. I couldn’t bear to lose him. But he was lucky, or careful, or some combination, and I am grateful every day for that.”

“It doesn’t - disgust you - that your son is homosexual?”

Edie stopped bustling around the kitchen for a moment and turned to Harlan. She took off the potholder she had been wearing and looked at Harlan thoughtfully. In the position she was standing in, Harlan noticed for the first time the five digits tattooed on the inside of her forearm. His jaw dropped and his eyes filled with unexpected tears as he realized what they signified. 

“I have encountered many disgusting people in my life, Mr. Haller,” she said softly. Her face was still as warm and inviting as ever, but there was a thread of steel in her voice that Harlan had never heard before. “But none of them, to my knowledge, were homosexual.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, swallowing and looking at her eyes. She softened when she saw his stricken expression.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “But I suspect it is not me you owe an apology to?”

He shook his head and blinked at her a few times. “It’s hard for me to accept it,” he admitted after a moment. “I never knew anyone else who was...um. Who wasn’t hetersexual.”

“Well, that sounds like it’s a problem for you, but not necessarily for Charles and Erik.”

Harlan blinked at Edie as he contemplated her words. “I suppose...I never thought about it that way.”

Harlan gazed off into space while Edie continued cooking. After a few moments, she said, “You know, you impress me. You are really thinking about what I’m saying.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Of course I’m thinking about it. It’s clear that you are a wise woman.”

Edie laughed, a full-throated sound filled with so much amusement that Harlan smiled despite not understanding what was so funny. “It was hard-won wisdom, my friend. I have made many stupid mistakes in my life. I had only ever wanted a large family, and although I loved my son very much, I was beginning to lose hope that I could have that. But with Jean, and David, and Charles, and you, I have that family and it makes me very happy.”

“Me?” Harlan said, surprised. “I...can see that, yes.” Harlan realized that he liked the idea of Edie being a part of his family, even though it meant he would have to acknowledge the relationship between Erik and Charles for that to make sense. 

Although, as Edie had just pointed out, the relationship was there whether he was comfortable with it or not. 

**

Considering how busy he was catching up with people he hadn’t seen in months, or in some cases, years, after the party had been in full swing for two hours, Erik had barely spent any time with Charles. He saw him across the room laughing, talking, being a wonderful host and clearly right in his element. He was so effortlessly handsome that it made Erik’s heart pound and he realized that it was time.

He walked up behind Charles and spoke into the soft brown hair above his ear. “Can you spare a few minutes?”

“What? Yes, of course. Is everything alright?”

Instead of answering, Erik took Charles by the hand and tugged him upstairs, to the library. Once inside, he pressed Charles to the wall and gave him a passionate kiss that Charles laughed into but greedily accepted. 

When he had pulled away, Erik looked into Charles’ eyes. “How’s the party going? Any good gossip?”

The corners of Charles’ eyes crinkled with delight. “I think everyone is having a great time. I certainly am. Oh! Not exactly gossip, but Logan told me that William Brasky was sentenced to thirty years for sexual assault on a minor under fourteen years of age. He will be up for parole in fifteen years.”

Erik scowled. “It should be longer.”

Charles smiled softly and pressed a kiss into Erik’s palm. “Can we talk about it again in fifteen years?”

Erik felt himself smiling, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “I suppose.”

They kissed again, slowly, both of them feeling a subtle pressure to get back to the party but not wanting to just yet. “I wanted to ask you something,” Charles murmured against Erik’s mouth when they had pulled apart slightly to breathe.

Erik hoped it wasn’t what he wanted to asked Charles, and he knew that Charles felt him stiffen slightly because Charles said, “I think you’ll like it.”

“Wait--” Erik said when Charles interrupted, “I want you and Edie to move in here.”

Erik froze in surprise, looking down at Charles, his lips slightly apart. “Charles - really?”

Charles nodded, a big smile crossing his mouth. 

“That’s--” it was a huge relief, the solution to a problem that Erik had barely begun to even contemplate, and he found himself with tears in his eyes. “Not many men would want to live with their lover’s mother,” Erik said, running a hand through his hair and trying not to let the emotion he was feeling show, even though tears were threatening.

Charles pulled Erik in for a tight hug and Erik pretended that tears _were not_ rolling down his cheeks in parallel lines. “Did you know that Edie braids hair?”

Erik made sure he could speak evenly before responding. “I’m not surprised. She is very capable.”

“Yes, she is,” Charles agreed. “One of the main reasons I had told myself that I needed to be with a woman instead of a man was to provide Jean with a female role model. And honestly, I could not ask for a better role model than your mother.” Erik just breathed, trembling into Charles’ embrace, wondering why this was affecting him so much. 

“I thought I might as well invite you too,” Charles said after a moment, and Erik choked out a surprised laugh. 

“So, is that a yes?” Charles asked, trying to pull away to look at Erik’s face. Erik held him tight and surreptitiously wiped away his tears before he allowed Charles to see his face. 

Despite his attempt, Erik realized when he saw Charles’ face that he hadn’t hidden anything, and Charles gave him a look of such disbelief and sympathy and love that it nearly set Erik off all over again. 

“Yes, of course,” he finally said, kissing Charles again. “In fact - I wanted to ask you something.”

Charles looked at him expectantly, his face mildly curious and the most beautiful thing Erik had ever seen. 

Charles’ eyes widened as Erik slowly got down on one knee. “Erik…” he breathed, both excited and alarmed.

“I was going to say something amazing here, but I can’t think - I can't remember what it was,” Erik admitted. He pulled a small black velvet box out of his inner jacket pocket with trembling hands. “So. Will you marry me?”

Charles just stared down at Erik, his jaw open and Erik felt for a terrible moment that Charles was going to laugh at him. When Charles finally spoke, it wasn’t what Erik had expected. “ _How_?”

Erik blinked and frowned a little. “I don’t care,” he said. “I just - I never thought I would want this, Charles, but I want to be _married_ to you. I want to call you my husband. I want the world to know that I’m yours and you are mine and I want to commit to each other in front of our friends and loved ones--” he broke off because Charles had grabbed his hands and pulled him up off his feet, his blue eyes shining with tears. 

“Yes, Erik, yes, the answer is _yes_ , I’m sorry I didn’t say that right away because I’ve been there and I remember how terrible it was thinking she would say - but - no, I mean, - I do mean yes and I said _how_ because...because...it’s so unfair!” he burst out finally. 

“What’s unfair?” Erik whispered, feeling like he was on an emotional roller coaster. 

“It’s unfair that we can’t _actually_ get married!”

“Yes,” Erik said, and he couldn't help laughing at the irony of it all (even though that laugh sounded a little like a sob) and how he suddenly understood why marriage equality was the first priority for so many queer people. “Yes, it is unfair. But we can have a wedding, we can go to a country where it’s legal...and it may yet become possible within our lifetime, getting married here, I mean.” 

Charles looked at Erik with incredulous wonder. “There’s so much more to you than I knew,” he whispered. “I fell half in love with you from reading your column for years, you were the object of most of my sexual fantasies for years, and there are still parts of you that surprise me. In the best way.” He waggled the fingers of his right hand at Erik. “Go on, then. Let’s see if you got my size right.”

Grinning, Erik slid the gold band onto Charles’ ring finger. It fit perfectly, as Erik knew it would, because he had borrowed Charles’ wedding band from where he knew Charles kept it when he went to buy the engagement ring. But he didn’t tell Charles that. Let him think Erik had some magic metal sense; that was fine with Erik. 

Charles grinned at Erik and pulled him into a sloppy kiss that started emotional but quickly grew more heated. After a few minutes, Charles groaned into Erik’s mouth. “I wish we’d had time to get tested again this week,” he muttered into Erik’s neck. They had gotten tested together six months ago, and had agreed to stop using condoms after a second clean test six months later.

“Oh, right.” Erik pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket. “Even though _you_ didn’t have time to go to the clinic, I did.”

Charles shook his head, smiling so hard it hurt, as he unfolded the paper and saw exactly what he expected - test results with Erik’s name at the top that showed he was disease-free. 

“But it should be both of us,” Charles protested, shivering a little with delight as Erik scraped his teeth along Charles’ neck. 

“You weren’t the one I was worried about.”

Charles enjoyed what Erik was doing to his neck as the ramifications occurred to him. “No more condoms,” he whispered. “I could - we could - oh my god, we have to go upstairs!”

Erik chuckled and kissed Charles on the nose. “You have a house full of people, fiance of mine. Don’t you want to share the good news with them?”

Charles groaned a little. “Yes. But I’m kicking them out at midnight.” 

Erik laughed and just held Charles close for a moment. “I’m so glad I bid on you,” He whispered, the breath from his voice stirring the hair around Charles’ collar. “I love you, Charles. No probably about it.”

Charles just breathed for a moment, more content there in Erik’s arms than he could remember having felt for a long time. “I love you, too.” He paused and said, “At least we don’t have to plan a separate engagement party. Everyone’s here!” 

They went downstairs together, hand in hand. Erik tugged Charles to the foyer and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, everyone.”

It took the partiers a few moments to realize that Erik wanted to address them. Conversations slowly trailed off as everyone turned around to look at Erik and Charles expectantly. 

Charles felt like his heart was pounding through his chest. He suddenly realized how little he had thought this through. He made eye contact with Harlan and his gut clenched right as Erik said, “Charles and I have an announcement to make.”

Charles smiled and blinked a few times. His mouth was dry and there was no way he could speak. Erik seemed to understand and pulled him close to Erik, under his arm. “A few minutes ago, I asked Charles to marry me, and he said yes. We’re engaged!”

The crowd burst into cheers and Charles was almost bowled over as David ran up to hug them both, with Raven close behind him. Charles looked for Harlan, but he couldn’t see him.

Erik and Charles were swamped by well-wishers as nearly everyone at the party felt compelled to offer their personal congratulations. Charles was grateful that nobody asked awkward questions like _‘how do two men get married, anyway?’_

He supposed they would figure that out. Charles turned to smile at Erik and his eyes widened as he saw Harlan diffidently approaching him. He spun Erik around to face Harlan, tellng himself he wasn't hiding behind Erik's back, feeling a little like a coward and not ready to deal with Harlan’s censure. 

“Erik,” Harlan said. Charles could not see his face. “Welcome to the family.”

Charles almost fell over. He peeked from behind Erik’s back and saw that Harlan and Erik were shaking hands. “Harlan…?” he whispered.

Harlan saw Charles and smiled a little before looking back at Erik. “This is a big change for me,” he said. “But I realize...it’s me that needs to change.” 

“Thank you,” Erik said, surprised and pleased at Harlan’s reaction to their engagement.

Harlan cleared his throat and looked deliberately at Charles. "I'm sorry for what I said to you," he said quietly. 

There was no need for him to repeat what he had said; it was something Charles wouldn't forget anytime soon. But he could forgive. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

“Your mother is a remarkable woman,” Harlan said to Erik before nodding and taking his leave. 

Erik stiffened and stared after him. “What he did mean by that?”

Charles chuckled and ran his hands down Erik’s shoulders soothingly. “You can’t protect her forever, you know.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Erik grumbled, before grudgingly allowing himself to be kissed by Charles. 

“I hear you like challenges,” Charles said, with one eyebrow cocked. 

Erik looked into Charles’ eyes and let the tension drain out of his posture. “Fortunately, I do,” he murmured, kissing Charles on the steps of foyer of where he would soon be living, where everyone could see them doing it.

Charles never wanted him to stop.

**

_Charles resigned from hosting _Love In The Nineties_ approximately six months after he came out on the air. It was his choice; despite the fact that they wanted to keep him on (the number of listeners had increased dramatically, after all) working with his bigoted producer had become uncomfortable and Charles had so many other career opportunities that it was an obvious move for him. In fact, he became the de-facto bisexual pop culture icon for several years, and he and Erik were often hired for speaking engagements together._

_Harlan and Edie became very good friends who saw each other regularly; Harlan came over for dinner frequently. If their relationship ever became more than that, Erik insisted he did not want to know._

_William Brasky was killed in a prison fight in 2004. Erik was nowhere near the prison at the time._

_After living together as fiancés for almost twenty years, Charles and Erik were officially and legally married at the city clerk’s office in Manhattan on Saturday June 27th, 2015, the day after the United States supreme court declared same-sex marriage legal for all the states in the union._

THE END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Six Years, A Week, Two Years, A Lifetime [The House Spouse Remix]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691558) by [traumschwinge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge)




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